Travel

Steve's been home for the last two weeks and it's been so nice having him here. It's great having him drive the girls to school, help with homework, cook dinner, put Noah to bed. These are things I don't take for granted anymore since he started traveling 3- 5 days a week. But what I really miss is waking up together and having our morning cup of coffee on the couch. I love slowly waking up, reading the bible and praying together each morning he is home. I miss sharing a glass of wine on the back porch before dinner while the kids play or do their homework. We've been married for almost 21 years and he's been traveling for only 15 months. It's been difficult, to say the least, getting used to him being away.

If there is an upside to this job it's that it has caused us to do a lot of soul searching. I've come face to face with the ugliness in me. The selfishness of wanting things my way, the way they've always been. It's also forced us to be more honest with one another. Neither one of us has ever been good at keeping our feelings a secret but the last year has brought us to a entirely new place of honesty in our relationship. I've spent a lot of time trying to wrap my head around why being apart has been so hard on us. I know the obvious answer is we are married thus one flesh and all that. And maybe it is that simple. And that complicated.

When he took this job last year and started traveling my anxiety attacks showed back up. It had been years since I'd had any real anxiety. The day he left for his first trip of this season I was in the grocery store grabbing a few things for dinner and all of the sudden I started crying. I got a heavy feeling in my chest and an overwhelming desire to wring my hands. Yes, I literally shake my hands when I feel anxious. I felt like I wasn't going to be able to take my next breath. Thankfully, I had my sunglasses with me so I put them on to cover my suddenly red eyes. Because, you know sunglasses inside are so less obvious than tears. I think the reason I had such a strong anxiety attack is because this was our second season with his job and I knew what was coming this year. His first year was difficult but it was all new and I was trying to figure it out, like Steve was. But this year we both know.

We know the impossible schedule, the exhaustion he feels from being on the road and I feel from being home with the kids. We know what it's like to try to communicate over a cell phone or through text what our day was like or even more difficult what we are feeling and thinking. We know the disappointment we all felt when he missed Harrison coming home from Europe after being away for 6 months, Lucy's first soccer game or Ellie winning her cross country meet for the first time. These are memories he doesn't share except through pictures and the retelling of the stories. It's hard on all of us.

Lately, we've been asking ourselves is it worth it to continue? This year he was the only chaplain for the teams but next year there will be another one. This year was only our first full season but next year we will be more used to the schedule. This year he has spent many hours building relationships but next year he'll have that foundation already. There are reasons to continue and there are reasons to quit and work at Wal Mart!

I've always enjoyed the twists and turns that my life has brought me but often it's in the looking back and seeing the "good", the hand of God where I have found peace or purpose in my journey. But lately, I've been painfully aware of wanting to be in the moment and enjoy this time in my life without having to wait to look in the rear view mirror to see the incredible moments I am living right now.

After twenty years of living with unresolved grief I think I've finally learned that I have to grab hold of the present to be able to fully embrace my future when it does arrive. Looking back at the days after David and Ruth died all I can see is a young woman trying desperately to make the pain go away by racing ahead on the journey. I sprinted down the road rather than allowing myself to walk it and take it in. I missed a great deal because of that and today I am having to re-walk the road of grieving.

I refuse to be angry at myself for the path I've taken. Do I have regrets? Sure. Do I wish I had done things differently? Of course. But, here I am. I can't go back, only forward. So, forward I shall go.

The Shed

I've done a lot over the years to cope with my depression and anxiety. Lately, I've found myself doing what I call breathing prayer. It's basically just deep breathing and saying "help me, Jesus" at the same time. It does help. It gets my focus off of me and what I am anxious about and onto the One that can actually help. Worshiping also helps, although I find that some music can aggravate my anxiety at times. Over the years, I've tried all kinds of herbal remedies. Some may have helped a little. Years ago I learned that exercise was the best thing for me. Sweating A LOT is great for my emotional well being. Recently, counseling has been the thing that has helped the most. And hurt.......

When I started counseling, it was mainly because I had come to a breaking point personally. There have been so many changes in my life in the last three years that I felt I could barely stand up under the weight of them. In my sessions we've done a lot of digging, talking, praying, crying (well, that's been mostly me... thankfully my counselor isn't doing too much crying!) It's all been very healing but at the same time very painful. In recent weeks I have felt intense joy and intense anxiety at the same time. I didn't even know this was possible. I've been wondering about this in the last few days. It's as if I'm digging in the dirt and I unearth this beautiful treasure while simultaneously disturbing a nest of worms. It's exhilarating and gross all at the same time! In this picture I have of me digging I know I've disturbed the worms that have lain dormant for so long. I also know that eventually I'll get the treasure out, free of worms but it's taking a lot more energy and work than I realized it would.

I suppose when things lay undisturbed for a long time they can begin to rot away, like the abandoned house. Or, like some plants and flowers these things can reemerge more lovely and beautiful than before. Perhaps the key to all of this for a person is knowing when to dig those things out. For me, I needed help. Don't we all? I tried to manage for so many years and I guess I still would be if circumstances in my life hadn't led me to seek help.

Today, Steve and I are scheduled to clean out our shed. I can think of about a million things I'd rather be doing.... like nothing! It's his day off I think we should take a nap. But, the shed calls. It really is bad. In the six years we've lived in this house the shed has become the place we just throw things we don't have a place for. Tools, bikes, tennis rackets, scooters, the lawn mower etc... I'm almost afraid to open the door! Who knows what will come pouring out. I can hear us now, "oh, so that's where you've been." "Can you tell me WHY we hung on to this?" I know it's going to take a lot of work, we're going to get dirty and run into some spiders probably, but at the end of the day I will love the feeling of knowing the shed is free of clutter. It will be such a good feeling and it will be so worth the work. And, who knows just maybe we'll find a treasure or two.

Restoration

Every morning and afternoon during the school year I drive by an old house. I first noticed it because it stands out from the other homes nearby. This old, brick house sits on a beautiful tree-lined street in a classic old-money neighborhood. The reason it stands out is it's state of disrepair, especially in this community. It's a lovely old home with lots of character. I've often wondered the story behind this home. Who are the owners? Where are they? Why does no one live there now and why did they stop taking care of this house? I want to know it's story.

I've been seeing a counselor for several months and she's been helping me unfold my story. It's amazing to me, like that old home, I somehow managed to stop taking care of myself. The me that is most important, my spirit. This past week as I walked through the grieving process over David and Ruth I realized that I had shut that part of me down years ago. The part that didn't want to feel the pain. I decided it hurt too much. I felt it was too much for God to ask me to bear and so I closed the door to the pain, and like an old house that doesn't get used my pain began to rot away parts of who I am.

It was a choice. A choice that has had dire consequences for my spirit and soul. Depression for one. A loss of my full identity for another. These are no small things. When I wrongly believed I couldn't stand the hurt and grief I unknowingly disassociated myself from a vital part of who I am and what God was doing in me. Like rooms in an abandoned home part of who I am has been unused and locked away, growing dusty.

Recently I had a dream that I was swinging. I was swinging side to side instead of front to back. It was wonderful. I felt so free. As I was swinging a friend came up and began to pray over me. She prayed for healing over past wounds. When I woke up I heard in my spirit, " I want to restore your sanguine personality." Restoration. Just what I need.

At the time of the dream I wasn't sure all that it meant but in the last few days I've come to understand. I lost part of me when the twins died. A big part. I understand now what I didn't then. That when we say no to pain and grief we are saying no to our very selves. No, you can't walk the road marked out for you. No, you can't feel this. No you can't be a whole person, you can't be who you are meant to be. No, you can't heal.

I need and want a total restoration of who God made me to be, not who I've been saying I am through a filter of depression.

Part of me is angry at myself for falling for the lies of the enemy. Part of me is mad at God for... well for all of it! But the bigger part of me is thankful. Thankful that I have a God who takes the old and worn out soul and makes it new again. A God who restores. I'm working through my anger knowing that it's part of the process, part of the restoring.

Maybe it's taken me twenty years to get to this place on my journey but it's okay, it's better than never getting here. It's better than sitting vacant and empty. I'm choosing differently now. I'm choosing to allow the pain. The pain of a redo. I'm going to lean in as best I can and let the restoration begin.