Untitled and Long Winded

The past 24 hours have been really crazy. I feel like several people are speaking directly to me with their messages, whether they know it or not. A friend in a growth group once said that sometimes God needs a 2 x 4 in order for her to get His message...I sometimes feel like that, too. It's only when looking back at an event that I think, "wow...I can see so clearly what His design was. I just wish I had that clarity back in the moment!" Hindsight, I guess. Anyway, the "get a clue bat" has really come out this weekend.

I know I'm being vague, so let me clarify. Last night, as I mentioned in my previous blog, I spoke to my dad on Skype for a while. I love talking to him, but sometimes it can be hard. Not because I don't want to talk to him, but because he's one of the very few people that truly gets what it has been like the past 7 months without mom. We are brutally honest with each other, which can be cathartic, but also raw when the other person is having what we call "a moment". Don't get me wrong, I would be so very lost without the support of other family and my dear friends, my church, and my growth group ladies. But all the love and support in the world won't take away what happened. It helps me heal, for sure. But dad and my sister have that extra layer of understanding that no one else gets, unless they've been through it.

So after the Skype call, before bed, I was reading a few chapters in a book I'm reading for a group that meets on Tuesday nights. It's one of Anne Lamott's book's, called Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith. Until now I haven't related as well to this collection of stories as much as I did with her other book. But then I started reading a chapter called Untitled, which discusses her inner battle with getting older and reflecting on all the changes she's been through as she's aged. And even though I'm half her age, it was like she was speaking for me. This passage, in particular:

"If you haven't already, you will lose someone you can't live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and you never completely get over the loss of a deeply beloved person. But this is also good news. The person lives forever, in your broken heart that doesn't seal back up. And you come through, and you learn to dance with the banged-up heart. You dance to the absurdities of life; you dance to the minuet of old friendships."

I don't think I could put it any better than that. Our hearts are still in pieces, but slowly we are finding the glue to get it back together again. The glue is our family's dedication to be there for each other. It's my relationship with God. It's my friendships, my church family, my "sisters" in Lawrence who are so wise, so kind, and so tolerant of my craziness. And as messed up, maybe, as it sounds, I'm relieved that it doesn't have to be put back together again as perfectly as it was before it broke. I'm never again going to be the person I was when my mom was still here because a piece of me died with her. But on the other hand, a piece of her is still here with me, carried always in my heart. So when I begin to find joy in life again, she is with me.

The other passage from this chapter that basically was smacking me in the back of the head has to do with embracing life as we get older. I have to say, people complaining about their age has always been a small pet peeve of mine, ESPECIALLY women my age. You're moaning and groaning about turning 25?! You've barely lived! But anyway, it's only magnified since mom's passing. I don't want to get morbid, but the fact of the matter is this: tomorrow is not promised to us. You never know what could happen. Be grateful and THANKFUL for each and every day you get to be on this Earth. Even on Mondays. Only God knows when it's our time, but in the meantime, take the time you have to truly, passionately, LIVE. It just drives me crazy to see women (and I guess men, although I don't really have personal experience with men doing this) moping about their birthdays. [paraphrased from today's sermon at EastLake]: If you're healthy, if you have a job (even if you hate it), if you have a roof over your head, food in the refrigerator, a little money in the bank, and people who love you in your life, you are one of the most blessed people on the entire planet. For real. If you even woke up today, you're more blessed than the millions who died last week, and will this week. This is the passage that got me:

"I have grown old enough to develop radical acceptance. I insist on the right to swim in warm water at every opportunity, no matter how I look, no matter how young and gorgeous the other people on the beach are. I don't think that if I live to be eighty, I'm going to wish I'd spent more hours in the gym or kept my house a lot cleaner. I'm going to wish I had swum more unashamedly, made more mistakes, spaced out more, rested. On the day I die, I want to have had dessert. So this informs how I live now."

Basically...to borrow from my favorite broadway musical...forget regret, or life is yours to miss. So every year I age, I'm going to celebrate and embrace it. If I'm lucky enough to get to 80, or even 55 (which my mom did not see), there will be a freakin' fabulous party. I'm going to live it up for all the people that didn't get that chance, for as many years as is my time. And I will be grateful for each one. I know too many fellow banged-up, glued back hearts out there, dancing through life as best they can, and so for them, for my mom, for God, I will appreciate and always give thanks for the life I have, even when the glue comes undone every now and then.