Forward With Joy

The car wouldn't start this morning. Something was wrong with the ignition switch and it has intermittently been going out. That meant walking the boy to school. 

I'll admit, I was not at first very enthusiastic about walking a mile to school with him, not because I don't love my melodramatic five year old, but because as enthusiastic as I am in my communication with him, his response is always akin to a dirge. For example, most mornings before school we go through his litany of reasons why he doesn't want to go. 

"Mom, I don't like school. The other kids talk to me. And we color. All day." 

"Mom, I don't like school. There's lunch. I didn't learn anything." 

And then his responses when I tell him to go play outside: 

"I can't. My legs hurt. I'm so tired. I hurt my back. I'm getting hotter/colder (depending on weather). I'm afraid of the bees/moths/spiders/trees/flowers/water."

All that to say a mile was looking very long before my second cup of coffee. And sure enough, it started off with "my legs are so cold." But then, something unexpected happened. 

"Mom, remember Uptwon Funk?"

"Of course, buddy. Want me to play it while we walk?"

"Yes!" 

So I found it on my phone, and pressed play. And for a mile, he danced his way, uncomplaining, joyfully, energetically, the whole to school. He danced by other people, he danced left and right. He danced forward, and backward. As long as the song kept playing, he kept dancing. 

When we got to his class, he was happy and smiling. And when I left him at school, I was too. The morning didn't start off the way I planned it, and we are so much the better for it. I wouldn't trade that one mile for anything. 

In My Heart

I'm not a good person. It's the truth. I don't love people the way I ought to, I judge, I get angry and I pine for revenge. I wish to dole out my version of justice upon the unjust. 

But I do try to be better. This desire to try stems directly from my faith. I believe in God, the Holy Trinity, three persons in one: God the Father, God the Son (Jesus) and God the Holy Spirit. I believe what it says in John 3:16 that God loves us so much, He sent His son to die on our behalf, a sacrificial love without condition. He died for all men, regardless of race, gender, creed, color, political party or sexual orientation. He loves us equally, and does not rank one sin above another. So my binge drinking and your murder are the same in the eyes of God, though they carry different consequences. 

I believe the Holy Spirit convicts the hearts of those in which it resides. Christians on this earth have their own unique walk, despite a belief in the same God, because each relationship with God is deeply personal. It's not one size fits all. He is one God, who shows Himself in a trillion different ways. But there is one banner that should unify us all, it should be the light that guides the lost home, the beacon that shines through the darkness that overruns this world. 

That banner is Love.

1 John 4:7-12 says, "Beloved let us love one another. For love is from God and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love, does not know God, because God is love. In this, the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent His only Son into the world so that we might live through Him. In this love, not that we have loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another. No man has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and His love is perfected in us." 

God loved us. We ought to love. And by extension, we see God through the love we have for each other. Do you know when I've seen God?

The day my children were born, I saw Him. There He was, in their tiny faces. There He still is, in their innocence and acceptance. 

I saw Him in the form of my dear friend, who endured so much pain and tragedy and still she cared for herself and her sisters, and still she does. I still see Him in her, every time I talk to her. 

I see Him in a fairy godmother, one who probably doesn't know how much I look up to her from afar, and how much I wish I could be her kind of selfless. 

I saw Him in the form of a group of people, in a ceremony by a river. He was there, in the words of a Wiccan who probably didn't know she was being used to touch the life of the broken and exhausted woman who listened to her.

I saw Him in the actions of my cousin, who stood by me when my life fell apart, who without a sure faith herself, encouraged me to pray. 

I see Him in my (former) brother in laws, who continue to love and accept me, even though they don't have to. Even though we don't believe the same things, have different lifestyles, etc.   

I see Him in my future mother in law, who glows with sweetness, despite the unspeakable heartache she has endured.

I see Him in my fiancé, who daily exemplifies kindness, generosity, patience, and understanding. 

I see Him in people who don't even profess to believe in Him. That's how great a God He is. That's how precious His children are to Him, that He uses them for good, even when they are unaware.

I'm not a good person, and I fail often to live up to the expectations I set upon myself. But I hope that you know that I am trying, and I hope I can exemplify  someday that Love I have seen in so many people around me, believers and non believers alike. 

That Love is the greatest of all. 

Poetry between Lines

Against your every fundamental,

Rages there a war ungentle,

Echoes of past injury,

Yet again release your fury.

Over time you look for healing,

Underneath, your soul is reeling. 

Once a lover, once with power

Now a fighter, now a doubter.

Cast aside your faith dissolving

Raise anew beliefs evolving,

Ardent is your indignation,

Cause for all your degradation.

Kiss at last your fading virtue,

Sordid from another's preview. 

Only then comes understanding.

Never more or less demanding. 

Statistically Speaking

Announcing my soon to be marriage has been an interesting experience. The reactions have been mixed. Some have expressed their joy at my happiness. Some have expressed concern over how quickly things have progressed. Some have said that, according to statistics, it's doomed to fail. 

Second marriages often end in divorce. 

Cohabitation before marriage ends in divorce.

Intimacy before marriage ends in divorce.

Marrying someone who doesn't share your religion ends in divorce.  

Here's some personal statistics:

Number of months the Marine and I lived together before marriage: zero

Number of times we had sex of any kind before marriage: zero

Number of times we'd been married before: zero

Disagreements religiously before marriage: zero

Marital success rate: zero

Forgive me if I seem unconcerned about doing things a little differently this time around.

Another concern often voiced is that I haven't given myself enough time to "grieve" for the end of my marriage. I have two things to address in that regard: 

First, I was grieving for my marriage while I was still in it. Anyone who has been married or is married to a military man who goes on deployments knows that each time he comes back, he's not the same as he used to be. Maybe he eventually gets back to normal or maybe, like my ex, he leaves pieces of himself behind in a place where he experienced what most of us will not - the brutality of war. I grieved for a husband who was still alive, but who didn't quite make it home. 

Second, the grieving process is not a "one and done" process. A year later, I still weep that my kids have to experience growing up in a broken home. I cry real tears for it. We could have made it, if only one hundred things had been different. As an aside, I will say this for my ex and I: so far, we've done a pretty good job of keeping the kids out of it. They won't hear any trash talk about all his "stuff" from me, and he backs me up when it comes to doing what I think is best for them. Some days that's hard to do (especially this month) but it's a part of the process. 

All that to say this: I am aiming to make the second marriage success rate jump a few points up. Who goes into a relationship thinking, "This will be great until the divorce"? Ridiculous. 

I'm not a virginal child anymore, and both of my eyes are wide open. I have 12 years experience in what not to do. Thank you for the statistics, but don't worry about Mush and me. There's whole lot of love and whole lot of prayer going into our relationship. 

We got this. 

On This Holy Thursday

At the beginning of 2016, I picked a word to focus on for the whole year. The word was discipline, because heaven knows I need more of it. But slowly over the last three months, a new word has been whispering at the back of my mind.

When I first moved here to the Tri, I hated it. I hated everything about it. I spent a year avoiding the place that was supposed to be home for good, or so was the plan. And then, I decided I needed to work on contentment, which is defined as "a state of happiness." For a time, I believed I had found it. In fact, I was so happy that I prayed to God, "Please don't let me lose faith when it all falls apart." A well timed prayer, to be sure, because two weeks later, all of it did. 

Now, a change dawns, a different place, a different life, and a different word for the year: acceptance. 

In retrospect, much of my time here has been about acceptance:

Accept that this place isn't what you thought.

Accept that the people here aren't who you thought.

Accept that your job isn't what you thought.

Accept that the man was everything you denied he could be. 

Accept that the future you could have now comes at a cost, like the remainder of the friendships you have. Maybe they survive on social media, maybe not. 

Accept the fact that not many will go out of their way for you. 

I accept. I see this time for what it has been - a lesson in humility and humiliation. In frustration, and anger, and regret. In countless hours spent awake, crying out to the dark, "What was it all for? Why does it matter?"

I've received many a pep talk from well meaning individuals in the last several months. "Think of all the relationships you've formed, the things you've learned, the way you've grown." I get a bitter taste in my mouth every time I hear it. Not because they're wrong, but because they say it like somehow that's going to magically make everything better. They might as well be saying "Think of  everything you tried to accomplish and build that is now void. Think of all of your time spent waiting and surviving, just barely at times, for it to end up like this." 

But, I am not without great optimism for the future. I accept the void, and I leave it to the past. I step forward into uncertainty, but I would rather live in this state for a time, than merely survive in the broken ruins of what never came to fruition. 

My dear friend said to me a few days ago, "The Lord gives, and He takes away.

Bless Him all the same."

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, or of disappointment, or of disillusionment, I will not fear. What God has made crooked, who can make straight?

Bless His name. 

Forgive as Forgiven

I'm not very good at it. I've written about it before. I'm not the "forgive and forget" type. I'm the "forgive and never let you forget" type.

This past weekend, I found myself in a most ironic situation. There I sat, in the living room of my friends house, holding a phone to my ear and listening to the sounds of my own heart being ripped out, for the second time in less than a year. 

When the phone call was ended, and the damage done, I sat in the darkened room with my friend, who had heard most of what happened - an angry voice over the telephone and me, sobbing uncontrollably. 

We all know what it is to be hurt. Sometimes the cuts are so deep, we are sure they will never heal. Sometimes the scars are so numerous, we can't remember what we were like without them. Sometimes the wound is so raw that even the slightest provocation will tear it open again. Sometimes forgiveness seems impossible. 

She looked at me, my friend did, and offered me words of peace and calm. She's known me a long time, and always has had a knack for tempering my impulse to instantly and foolishly react. 

There is irony in having such an event happen as I sat in her living room, because if she hadn't forgiven me when I asked, I wouldn't have been there at all. Indeed, such a phone call never would have existed, and neither would many of the happy moments of the last five months. A year ago, I made a phone call of my own and I asked for her forgiveness for something I had done wrong three years prior. She didn't even hesitate. She said, "I have been waiting for this phone call for three years."

With open arms, I was accepted. Much was forgiven of me, by her and by her family, without retribution. Without judgement. Without paying a price again and again and again. That's exactly what forgiveness is. The price has already been paid, the blood shed, and we can walk freely into the arms of Someone who didn't deserve to pay it, but who gladly did for our sake. 

Because of Him, I can forgive much, because I am forgiven. 

Effective Lines

It's strange. I've known Mush for thirteen years, but I don't actually remember meeting him.

There were times, in those early years, when I knew he was physically in the same space that I was in, but he was always just out of my view, my friend's phantom brother who I heard so much about but rarely caught a glimpse of.

The first time I remember him speaking directly to me was on the day of Ducky's wedding, nearly eight years ago. A bunch of us, Mush included, were mingling together after the reception was over. One of the girls was talking about her boyfriend being a little older than she was, and I flippantly replied, "Well, you don't want to date someone your own age anyway. They say boys mature slower than girls, so a few years older means he would be at your level."

And from across the room, Mush looked at me and, without smiling, said, "I find that remark to be extremely offensive."

I felt my heart drop all the way down to my feet. Nothing else was said but I thought from that day forward that Mush really did not like me.

And that bothered me.

Flash forward two years. It was after Scott's funeral, and the whole family went to the lake for a week, to get away. It was difficult for everyone, obviously, and I was struggling with the fact that in situations like this, I would normally have Scott to keep company with.

But he was gone.

I wasn't the only one who was alone, though. With all bedrooms in the cabin occupied, me and my two year old were relegated to a pullout couch in the family room. On the floor a few feet away slept Mush. My anxiety about that was through the roof. He already didn't like me, and I was certain he wasn't going to like me any more by sleeping on the floor in the same room as me and my toddler, who was unfortunately struck with a stomach bug our first night there. Things, it seemed, could hardly be worse.

Then one night, it happened that everyone else had gone to bed except Mush and me. I don't remember how we started talking, but we stayed up until the very wee hours drinking beer and orange juice on the front porch of the cabin, and I hung onto his every word. I'd long heard what a cool guy he was, and by an impossibly heartbreaking circumstance, I got to finally see it for myself. He was smart and engaging, sincere and thoughtful. It sparked something undefinable in my heart for him, a fondness I couldn't explain. From that day forward, I leapt at any chance to talk to him, especially those late night conversations, just us two.

I locked those moments away in my heart, little treasures I was sure only meant something to me.

Life turned dark for a time. I didn't see Mush for nearly four years because I stopped visiting with the family. When I would think of them, I would think of him, and wonder how he was. It was a surprise to myself how much I felt for him, without really knowing why.

Then, in the Fall of last year, something extraordinary happened. Ducky was talking to me about finally being able to pursue my dreams, particularly the one of living in the valley (which had long been a dream of mine).  She casually mentioned Mush...

Time stopped. The dormant embers of feeling I had locked away suddenly ignited an ardent desire to make him mine.  

And so I have, with little effort, because it turns out that the same moment I understood that he meant something, however undefinable, to me, was the exact moment he felt the same way. 

Nearly six years later, that undefinable and ne'er explored feeling has turned out to be love.