"Tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart." Shakespear
It's funny how New Years Day doesn't really change much. There's potential for a blank slate, a new chapter, but essentially it is up to you seize it. I haven't quite yet grasped ahold of the fresh start, I am clinging to tightly to a bitter end.
January has been hard. Self inflected I presume, but hard none the less. If I had to choose a word to sum up the past eighteen days in the new year I would choose BITTER. It's frigid temperatures outside are enough to chill you to your very core. But even worse is the ice-over my soul is experiencing. Nothing like sitting on the sofa watching your ten year old daughter play with her hamster in a make shift maze using every available cardboard box in the house, and a commercial comes on. A girl Charlee's age is talking about her mom's bi-polar depression. Immediately Charlee tore her attention from Pumpkin and zeroed in on me. "Mom that is what you have" she said, after the little girl rattled off the symptoms. I laughed, "Charlee I don't have bi-polar depression, I'm perfectly fine." … But I'm not. Maybe I don't have this particular diagnosis, but I'm certainly not fooling anyone that I am ok. Funny how I thought I could. Some of us can hide our hurts, our struggles, stuff them into a box and seal it shut, then wrap it up with fancy paper and frilly embellishments to give the illusion that everything is wonderful. Hoping nobody ever dare open the box to find the flaws. Somewhere along the way, even the pretending got to be to much work. No, I don't even bother to try and doll up my miserable state. You can see it glaringly. Wrapped up in sweatshirts and leggings & unkempt hair knotted into a bun. My car is littered with garbage, book bags, coats, and whatever other items the kids forgot to drag into the garage. Dishes stacked up in the sink, laundry piled in baskets, and dust accumulating on bookshelves. I can only imagine how frightened my husband must be. Sully is like sunlight. He brings joy to everyone who knows him. He is positive and encouraging, and he doesn't wallow. No matter what life hands him, he has this spirit of triumph. He is the living breathing manifestation of the Matthew Wilder song, Break my Stride. (If you don't know the song, we can't be friends.) He is even keel. I am an ever changing swing of emotions. Yet he has always been patient with me. I chalk that up to his faith. I envy it sometimes too. He has already figured out HE cannot change my behavior and he puts his trust in God instead. It feels like that is my constant struggle. I am always trying to change the behavior and I continually miss the lifeline in Christ.
I am reading 'It's Not Supposed To Be This Way' by Lysa Terkuerst. It's kind of the perfect book for this season in my life, I am sure it was no coincidence it appeared in my mailbox when it did. Chapter Four has struck a chord with me. Lysa has just discovered her husband is having an affair. As a prominent person in the Christian literary world, it's understandable that she would be concerned with people's reaction to the juicy gossip. I can identify with her fear of what people think because if I was honest that is one of the most debilitating things I am dealing with in my life. Something I didn't actually realize unto I stumbled into this chapter. She wrote the following:
I have allowed myself to believe lies. And I believed them so wholeheartedly I starting living them out as my truth. I think Satan loves to whisper lies in our ears. I'm not even sure he had to do much when it came to me. I am profoundly good at self deprecation. I wasn't completely blind to the idea that if people spoke something into my life, I believed it. I have an uncanny gift at finding humans to consort with who tend to criticize and belittle. There is so much power in what we say. While someone like Sully has a stronger self worth, there are the Joy's of this world too.There are so many areas of my life where I have simply just accepted someone's opinion of me as truth and carried it around like a millstone around my neck. It's a glaring admonition of my lack of faith.
I've been hiding for the past few months from really digging into and working on these things. I was wallowing in a deep disappointment over Kimber. For those of you who don't know our family dog went missing in October. In the face of this heartache I really decided I would not accept it. I dug my heels in and almost challenged God to change the outcome. This isn't the first power struggle He and I have been in. I think this was the most painful. Not because of Kimber in particular. It is more so that I truly believed I couldn't bear anymore and she was the proverbial straw that broke the camels back. So much pain and suffering has infiltrated our lives. We have had to watch the people we love suffer and die, we have experienced loss after loss, blow after blow. And somehow despite it all our little family unit remained in tact. There was a safe haven at the end of a long dusty road, bordered by fences and wilderness. We took our grief and our heartache and we built a place untouched by the sorrow. We cultivated the land, we grew our flocks and we healed. And part of that healing was due to that little back dog with the floppy ears and the rambunctious spirit. But the darkness reached into our sacred space and snatched her out of it. It felt personal and even though our lives have been turned upside down through each and every tremendous loss, losing Kimber affected our daily lives in a way that is unexplainable. We have spent the better part of the past few years adjusting to new normals. Life never stops. You are expected to move forward despite the gaping hole in your life where another occupied it. We learned to stop expecting to see my mom come through the front door. We learned to stop looking forward to Terry's phone call. We learned not to look for Greg's big beautiful smile and ALOHA when we visit Hawaii. We learned not to look for Rodney's funny comments on our Facebook posts. We learned to stop looking for Big Sully's truck in the driveway as we pass by his house. And those were hard things to learn, to accept. I wasn't even remotely interested in everyday facing that Kimber wasn't going to bound around the corner when my car pulled into the driveway. I wasn't ready to experience the heartache of getting trees by myself without my trusty sidekick. Her absence is felt in every movement we make on the farm. And this was the last place in our lives that was unsullied by heartbreak. There was a breach. And I hate it.
Unfortunately with the bitter cold of January, there was the bitter realization that we likely won't see our beloved pup again. We will never rule out a miracle, that someone has her and we will someday see her again. But we have to live our lives as if the latter is the exception and the former is the rule. I'm finally setting aside my canine investigator badge, handcrafted by me with crayons and cardstock, I am no longer on the case.
I could write an entire blog on that things I've learned in losing Kimber. But that will have to come at a time when it's not so tender. For now I have a lot to sift through and work towards, and taking hold of that blank slate, and fresh start that 2020 promised with the New Year is first. Seeking out God's will for my life, trusting in Him, and keeping my eyes and heart fixed on Him.
I am reading 'It's Not Supposed To Be This Way' by Lysa Terkuerst. It's kind of the perfect book for this season in my life, I am sure it was no coincidence it appeared in my mailbox when it did. Chapter Four has struck a chord with me. Lysa has just discovered her husband is having an affair. As a prominent person in the Christian literary world, it's understandable that she would be concerned with people's reaction to the juicy gossip. I can identify with her fear of what people think because if I was honest that is one of the most debilitating things I am dealing with in my life. Something I didn't actually realize unto I stumbled into this chapter. She wrote the following:
After all, I will never be able to control what other people have going on in their heads or in their conversations. But with the help of the Holy Spirit in me, I can absolutely learn to control how much I allow the fear of their opinions to have access to my life. And working on something in my own heart has a much greater chance of getting traction. The more I focus on wanting others to change, the more frustrated I will become. But frustration can turn into forward motion when I take on the project of ME.
My fears.
My worries based in fear.
And my anxiety bathed in fear.
What gives power to all that I fear others are thinking and accusing and saying isn't people themselves. It isn't even the enemy. I'm the one who decides if their statements have power over me or not. It's me. And my desperate desire to stay covered up. I don't want to feel naked in any way. Exposed. And I don't want to stand exposed, because I don't know how to do it and feel unashamed.
There it is. The root of this fear. I have allowed myself to believe that to be stripped of all the props and pretensions and accolades and approvals is to be stripped of the best part of me. When in reality what best about me comes to the forefront when I'm closest to the way God created me, naked and unashamed.
Adam & Eve could do this, because they had no other opinions to contend with but the absolute love of God Himself. So there they stood before the Great Creator, whose heart exploded into a million hopes and dreams and purposes for these two vulnerable but valuable creatures before Him. His delight. His creation. His reflection.
Naked. Unashamed. And, therefore, completely unafraid.
If someone says something about me that's not true, I should be able to pull a Taylor Swift and simply shake it off. If it's a ridiculous statement, then it should be like a bad smell that may make me cringe for a few seconds but then it passes on by.
But if someone says something about me that I've already wondered about myself, I probably won't be able to discern if it's ridiculous or not. I'll invite that statement in and offer it something to drink and a cozy seat in the corner of my mind. And before I know it, it's moved in like a bad roommate I never intended to have.
May we carefully choose what to remember and what to forget. I'm so quick to remember others hurtful words but slow to remember God's healing words. We must set our minds and hearts on things above by choosing to remember God's words, repeat God's words, and believe God's words about us. We must let God's Word become the words we park our minds and hearts on. We must let Gods words be the words we believe and receive as truth. We must let God's Word become the words of our story.
I have allowed myself to believe lies. And I believed them so wholeheartedly I starting living them out as my truth. I think Satan loves to whisper lies in our ears. I'm not even sure he had to do much when it came to me. I am profoundly good at self deprecation. I wasn't completely blind to the idea that if people spoke something into my life, I believed it. I have an uncanny gift at finding humans to consort with who tend to criticize and belittle. There is so much power in what we say. While someone like Sully has a stronger self worth, there are the Joy's of this world too.There are so many areas of my life where I have simply just accepted someone's opinion of me as truth and carried it around like a millstone around my neck. It's a glaring admonition of my lack of faith.
I've been hiding for the past few months from really digging into and working on these things. I was wallowing in a deep disappointment over Kimber. For those of you who don't know our family dog went missing in October. In the face of this heartache I really decided I would not accept it. I dug my heels in and almost challenged God to change the outcome. This isn't the first power struggle He and I have been in. I think this was the most painful. Not because of Kimber in particular. It is more so that I truly believed I couldn't bear anymore and she was the proverbial straw that broke the camels back. So much pain and suffering has infiltrated our lives. We have had to watch the people we love suffer and die, we have experienced loss after loss, blow after blow. And somehow despite it all our little family unit remained in tact. There was a safe haven at the end of a long dusty road, bordered by fences and wilderness. We took our grief and our heartache and we built a place untouched by the sorrow. We cultivated the land, we grew our flocks and we healed. And part of that healing was due to that little back dog with the floppy ears and the rambunctious spirit. But the darkness reached into our sacred space and snatched her out of it. It felt personal and even though our lives have been turned upside down through each and every tremendous loss, losing Kimber affected our daily lives in a way that is unexplainable. We have spent the better part of the past few years adjusting to new normals. Life never stops. You are expected to move forward despite the gaping hole in your life where another occupied it. We learned to stop expecting to see my mom come through the front door. We learned to stop looking forward to Terry's phone call. We learned not to look for Greg's big beautiful smile and ALOHA when we visit Hawaii. We learned not to look for Rodney's funny comments on our Facebook posts. We learned to stop looking for Big Sully's truck in the driveway as we pass by his house. And those were hard things to learn, to accept. I wasn't even remotely interested in everyday facing that Kimber wasn't going to bound around the corner when my car pulled into the driveway. I wasn't ready to experience the heartache of getting trees by myself without my trusty sidekick. Her absence is felt in every movement we make on the farm. And this was the last place in our lives that was unsullied by heartbreak. There was a breach. And I hate it.
Unfortunately with the bitter cold of January, there was the bitter realization that we likely won't see our beloved pup again. We will never rule out a miracle, that someone has her and we will someday see her again. But we have to live our lives as if the latter is the exception and the former is the rule. I'm finally setting aside my canine investigator badge, handcrafted by me with crayons and cardstock, I am no longer on the case.
I could write an entire blog on that things I've learned in losing Kimber. But that will have to come at a time when it's not so tender. For now I have a lot to sift through and work towards, and taking hold of that blank slate, and fresh start that 2020 promised with the New Year is first. Seeking out God's will for my life, trusting in Him, and keeping my eyes and heart fixed on Him.
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