My Way Through

Every so often I come across a book that moves me in a memorable and transformative way. I think there’s a reason I was inspired to read ONCE MORE WE SAW STARS by Jayson Greene during this season of my life. In this poignant memoir, a father draws a map for the grieving soul as he recounts, through raw and honest narrative, the heartbreak of losing his young daughter.

Greene finds language I wasn’t sure existed as he details the agony and release I’ve been experiencing in these past months after losing my sister. Through his story, I’ve received layered and comforting truths, truths like I’m not alone, and others are walking, have walked, and will walk this rocky terrain.

Someone recently asked me why I’d want to read a book like this, questioning if this kind of story would just make me sadder. Yes and no. It’s a good sad. A necessary sad. Emotion that connects me with humankind and strengthens every empathy bone in my body. Books like this are my way through. And I’m grateful beyond words for Greene’s vulnerable portrayal of loss and life after loss because it’s become an unexpected and beautiful pathway on my own road to healing.

Going the Way of Climbing Bougainvillea

I’m worn thin. Bone dry. Hollowed out. Aching for our world. And I’m a mother of teenagers.

Every day I’m challenged to shift my way of thinking, to wind my thoughts around all that takes me toward the light. All that heals. Replenishes. And stretches me toward the hopeful.

Because moment by moment, I brush up against the broken and the brittle. We’re all so frayed and broken. Wilted. Withered. More than ever it seems the perverse is omnipresent. In my face. In your face. Glaring.

I take a deep breath, then another, and climb for the nourishing truth, sturdy-petals of promise, rising higher.

Like the bougainvillea, I need to train my focus and my thoughts, or else they’ll end up a drooping blob dusting the dirt. Second by second, I remind myself to attach to things worthy of my time.

Most days I want to hide my petals. I want to collapse to the ground in exhaustion, or raging protest, disenchanted and discouraged. I’d be lying if I said the way up were the easy path. But light is light. The sun draws me heavenward with its invisible strands of goodness. I go because there is no better alternative. On my way up I entwine with other flowers on the vine. Comforted in these times of chaos that we are—all of us—more alike than we are different.

I refuse to relinquish hope. I grow and push toward the light for this very reason. Because even in my brokenness and during my most inadequate seasons, I am not alone in this. The hard ascension. The light can be trusted above all else.

*Happy Birthday to my sister, Holly!

Reflections on Love

For years, my blog bio has stated that I’m trying to “figure out this thing called life and the best way I

know how to do that is to write and to love.” I’ve shared a decent amount about writing over the past 800+ posts.

But what of love?

Every day I learn more about how love can’t be packaged as a feeling. It’s rooted in surrender, service, sacrifice, and supplication. For me, it’s anything but simple.

Here are a few glimpses of how love manifests itself in my life…

Forcing myself to stay awake to chat with my oldest daughter because even though I’m a morning bird, my night owl gets her second wind at 10pm, right when I’m desperate to crawl under the covers and sleep.

Apologizing first.

Letting go.

Committing to the hard path of parenting when it’s tempting to choose the easy route.

Seeking to understand.

Listening when I want to talk.

Driving my kids to activities, taking out the trash, risking intimacy, walking the dog . . .

Noticing—truly noticing and appreciating the season I’m in.

Grasping a vision and affection for all things deemed unlovable or discarded.

Delighting in nature.

Laughing hard.

Experiencing gratitude so deeply it ultimately serves as a motivator.

Responding when a response is called for.

Remaining silent.

Encouraging.

Praying.

Sometimes I do a bang up job when it comes to loving people. Other times, I whiff big time. As with all things, I hope to be forever improving, forever learning.

I’m largely who I am because of how I’ve been loved. My memory is long for those for those who’ve chosen to pour into me. And my life is full.

~ Love quotes that are speaking to me right now ~

“Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place.” ~ Zora Neale Hurston

“If a thing loves, it is infinite.” ~ William Blake

“Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person’s ultimate good as far as it can be obtained.” ~ C. S. Lewis

Season of Splinter Removal

This past summer was a splintery season. Not even sure where to start, but skidding the surface there’s the neighbor serving a hefty prison sentence, unexpected blows from within our church, tension with family members, and grappling with loved ones facing physical and mental struggles.

Not to mention I haven’t felt this spiritually beat up since a time of great loss in my life seven years ago.

Mercy.

If you’ve been coming around here for a while you know I’m not one to let splinters remain stuck.

I’ve officially entered a season of splinter removal. And the pain on the way out mimics the piercing on the way in.

Here’s what I’m doing about it (8 Things I’m Working to Improve in My Life Right Now + a bonus lesson):

Putting Down the Gavel

Not judging someone based on flubbed words. Searching for a Timberjack Harvester to help me extract the ginormous log from my own eyes.

Full Forgiveness

None of this half-assed all smiles and rainbows stuff. Forgiving like this is torrential hailstorm smack me in the face painful.

Full Love

Loving family right where they’re at. Loving everyone right where they’re at.

Integrity

Saying what I mean and meaning what I say.

Dukes Up

Fighting spiritual distractions. Taking up my sword of the Spirit and holding firm to my shield of faith (oh yeah, I’m all over Ephesians 6:11-20 lately).

Leaving Bitterness to Citrus Peels & Dark Chocolate

Identifying areas of hurt and dealing with them, not letting them fester and mold into bitterness.

Care Less

It threw me when I kept getting this message from God. Finally I understood the meaning. Let go of things that aren’t eternal or encouraging. Care less about the petty, the cutting, the discouraging, things that will seem insignificant a year or two from now.

In God I Trust

It feels like I’m the eternal unfinished novel with this one.

I Like to Move It, Move It

Moving on when time calls for it. Not dwelling, stewing, or reflecting like that Narcissus dude that got zapped into a flower.

Not a single pain-free process of splinter removal up there. But some of it has sloughed off surprisingly quickly, like that splinter you cringed to think of being yanked from the pad of your foot only to squeeze your eyes shut and open them to see it pinched between your father’s fingers. He took it. All of it up there (up there in this post and up there on the cross). By his death he removed every last splinter and every splinter that has yet to pierce.

Such freedom in that. I can run free.

Ever been through a specific season of splinter removal?

*photo by stock.XCHNG

**I'm also relearning math as apparently there are NINE things listed up there. Eh well.