Brave, Anyway

Tag: bravegirlwannabe

  • Good Grief

    Good Grief

    There’s no right way to grieve people say. To people who are grieving I say There’s no one right way to grieve.

    I am unsure if people mean it when they say it or if they are just offering encouragement. What I am sure of is that after seeing countless family and friends grieve people and situations and lives they’d hoped to have, I mean it when I say it to them. What I am equally sure of is that I do not think that it applies to me, because often it feels like I’m grieving all wrong.

    Losing my Dad and my bonus Dad five weeks apart has me asking myself each night if I did the right things that day, if how I am feeling is too much or too little, if they would agree with what I said or did, if I’m setting the right example for my girls, if God is rolling His eyes at me or pleased. And every day I fall asleep still having no idea, really.

    My father-in-law lived with us for almost 15 years. Ella does not remember a time when her Papa Ted wasn’t downstairs. I’m thankful for his consistent and loving presence in their lives, and his support on all their hard days. I’m thankful that he got his wish to spend all his days at home, not in a hospital or in a “place old people go to die.” And I’m thankful that he embraced the unconventional, and that together we showed the girls what family is truly about.

    Grief is so many things throughout each day. It’s sadness when you want to tell that person something. It’s frustration that you suddenly have to figure out a bunch of stuff. It’s happiness that your loved ones are no longer held back by old bodies. It’s anxious idleness during the times of day you previously had tasks with or for them.

    Navigating grief is like driving through the streets in Grand Theft Auto or The Transporter. Sometimes you’re looking for something, sometimes you’re racing, sometimes you make a quick turn to avoid something, sometimes you accomplish something and feel great and celebrate, sometimes something unexpected hits you hard, sometimes great music comes on and makes you smile, sometimes you screech to a halt and don’t know what to do next.

    My current stage of grief is the one with no sappy or slow music of any kind. The Beastie Boys, Eminem and DMX are all safe. Even on the way to church: The Humpty Dance. It’s also the one where I limit the number of people I talk to in a day, where I fall asleep at 8 pm and wake up at 1 with a dozen thoughts all vying for attention, and where I am so secretly enraged at Audrey’s teacher for giving homework that I consider all the steps it would take to find her address and print 100 copies of the work we did and attach them to real estate signs that could then be placed all over her yard. How’s that for showing my work?!

    It’s also the stage where I really want hugs but wonder in the middle of them if I am really doing it right, or at least OK.

    The house is different. The world is different. Maybe I’m different – I’m not sure yet. But a new season is ahead, one where God is going to do a new thing. Whatever that new thing is, today it seems far away. Today’s job is to drive carefully, no tickets and no tricks on just two tires.

  • Freedom Thoughts

    Freedom Thoughts

    Today began before the sun fully came up, with loud noises and flashing lights. An ambulance at a neighbor’s house immediately had me praying, and also immediately transported me to the night my Dad died and how the world looked as I arrived at my parents’ house.

    Red flashes. Red is the color of stop. Red is the color of danger. My eyes filled with tears as my heart filled with heaviness.

    And just as quickly as the heaviness came, the urge to choose a direction filled my mind. A deeply ingrained habit, a gift my Dad gave me, to be mindful of the direction of my thoughts and emotions.

    My Dad’s gift came in the form of a book – for me, a life-changing book. I first read Battlefield of the Mind by Joyce Meyer as a young adult, when I desperately needed freedom from fear. And although its pages have countless lessons, the most important one for me is this: I am in control of all my thoughts and I choose which thoughts to dwell on and which ones to discard.

    This morning I had a choice to focus on praying for someone else or on sadness, grief, and fear. I chose praying for someone else. But as I’m human and all up in my feelings right now, an hour later and for the rest of the day I was focused on and looking back over my scribblings about fear and progress and the year of freedom.

    When I think back on all the times in my life where fear had the most power, I had at some point made a choice to walk with or in forces that did not embrace light in the same way I did or needed to. For me, freedom is in the light. I am the strongest when I use my free will, my freedom, to choose light. I am the strongest when I surround myself with other people who choose light.

    Are light and love interchangeable here? As in Light and Love? That brings me full circle to Mat Kearney’s Closer to Love, a song that can transport me back to the smells and sounds of CHKD halls just as fast as those lights this morning transported me back to 3 weeks ago.

    She got the call today
    One out of the gray
    And when the smoke cleared
    It took her breath away
    She said she didn’t believe
    It could happen to me
    I guess we’re all one phone call
    From our knees

    But that song and those memories all have a happy ending now. A light associated with them. A love associated with them. A freedom associated with them.

    I’ve been looking for my eagle, a symbol of freedom, and still haven’t seen her since my Dad went to heaven. I think she holds some sort of secret I am supposed to unlock. A behavior I am supposed to learn from. But until I see her, I’m stuck with Google and bird websites to try and figure it out. What I know with certainty so far is this: in order to fly, birds or planes must have a balance of forces. NASA has really complicated ways of explaining this but Toni Morrison says it so simply: You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.

  • Dear Dad

    Dear Dad

    I’m tired. I’m guessing you know that, but I’m really not sure. Can you see me now, hear me? Do you know the things I’m talking to God about? In the last 6 days, I have thought more about what heaven is like than I did in all the 18,000 days prior to now combined.

    You’ve moved to a new place, and I’m not sure what it looks like. I have no pictures to help me visualize it, so basically I’m making it all up. It’s got a beach, mountains, fields of wildflowers, valleys with streams and wildlife, far east countryside, and even a middle of the ocean with no land in sight – and you can constantly move back and forth, and experience all the different kinds of land and sea scapes that brought you joy, and that you loved to just watch and feel and smell. Is that even remotely what it’s like? I doubt it, because according to Corinthians Things that no eye has seen, or ear heard, or mind imagined, are the things God has prepared for those who love him. I’m so happy to know without a shadow of a doubt that you’re in heaven, but it makes me sad not to be able to picture you somewhere.

    Now that you’re in heaven, assuming you see me, do you see me only as I am today or do you now have greater knowledge about all the things I said and did that little girls hide from their Daddies? Because YIKES if it’s the latter. I guess none of it would surprise you or change anything, but still – a girl should get to keep some secrets! Perhaps the thing I am the most thankful for right now is how many times you said to me “I am proud of you, Beth.” Sometimes you asked me to stop what I was doing and really listen to you say it, because you wanted me to hear it and absorb it. And I realized this week that I do really know it, and what a fantastic gift that is. As you would say, I know that I know that I know you’re proud of me – and that’s because you were a great Dad and you purposefully said it and made me pay attention. (I’m really hoping you didn’t say it so many times because you already knew about all the YIKES stuff and figured I might need extra convincing at some point.)

    I love that you kept this little piece of scrap paper for probably 40 years. I wish I knew or remembered the story of that day.

    Why did you die in the year of freedom? What’s the lesson for me there? I haven’t figured it out yet. I just don’t know now why my word for the year is freedom. Is Romans 8 a part of it? I have to think more on this.

    Message received, loud and clear, that this timing is by design. On purpose. God’s plan. How I live and behave and speak in these days is critical, showing others the way to grieve and to live. I’m doing my best. There has been some mild cursing.

    Sending us a police officer named Paul, who has parents named Paul and Linda, was the absolute best reassurance that God is with us, went before us, and we shouldn’t be discouraged.

    The day after you went to heaven, I ate the can of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle soup you always kept in the pantry for when anyone was feeling under-the-weather. You were so wrong to try to pass that mess off as some sort of Biblical cure because some Army guy from 1958 told you it was called Jewish Penicillin. It was salty, awful, zero stars and do not recommend.

    The song for this week was Van Halen’s Jump. I know you scowled every time I restarted it – but you have to admit that my awesome air drums were the perfect way to get my brain to shift from overwhelmed to focused, and to keep me from crying at stoplights. Rock and roll is not all sex and drugs and evil. I am right about Van Halen being talented, and since you’re not here to argue with me, I win.

    I spent time at Stumpy Lake this week thinking how you’d love all the sights and sounds out there, and looking for my eagle. I was frustrated not to see her. But then I realized she’s somewhere up there in the sky, even though I can’t see her. Just like Jesus. Just like you.

    While I was there yesterday, I Facetimed a friend and I was shocked to see myself for the first time. To find that the person staring back at me looked the same. The world feels so different, so I assumed I would look different.

    The world is full of pressure right now, from all sides. But I very clearly remember your instruction for when this happens:

    * Do not stop.

    * Keep pushing back and keep going.

    * An enemy knows when he’s losing. He will throw all he has at you in his last ditch effort, just before he surrenders.

    I was worried about Audrey’s dental work this week, because you weren’t here to pray. But Joy convinced me that your years of prayers for all of us keep working. I had no idea! Why didn’t we talk about this while you were here?

    I know it hasn’t looked like it at all moments, but I am OK. We talked about this time on numerous occasions and I am so thankful that you very intentionally spoke to me about it. I don’t always feel it, but I believe I am equipped because you said it. At the same time, I feel a little like I did when I realized that What to Expect When You’re Expecting in no way prepares you for having an actual baby.

    Miss and love you, Beth

    PS: It looks like Jimmy Carter is headed your way soon. You should maybe not tell him what you thought of his job performance and just focus on his post-Presidency work.

  • Dad

    My Dad has had a very big 24 hours. I imagine on his first day in heaven he got to see his Mom, reunite with all the folks in the great cloud of witnesses that cheered him on during his 82 years here, see all the cats and dogs and horses and fish he dearly loved during his time on earth, and he got to experience the pure joy in His presence that we read about in Psalms. And if by chance there is a crew of pranksters in heaven, my Dad has undoubtedly already joined it.

  • Freedom

    Freedom

    Do you make New Year’s resolutions?

    I never know the right age to divulge more information to the girls. Should I just say yes because they’re going to do it in school or should I really say what I think and practice? And most importantly, will my truth result in an email from a teacher who thinks I’m the craziest parent ever when one of my girls repeats something I’ve said?

    I do not understand New Year’s resolutions. Once you’re a grownup, when you realize you need to do something differently you need to do something differently. Starting right then. Combine that with the fact that we abandon 80% of resolutions within 30 days, and I think we can deduce that the vast majority of the time the vast majority of us just don’t want to do the hard work to do or be better.

    I found myself admitting to Audrey that I do not make New Year’s resolutions. However, I do end each year and begin each year by reflecting on three things:

    (1) What are the ways that the past year’s word were fulfilled in my life?

    (2) What is my word for the coming year?

    (3) Is my list still good or do I need to make changes or additions?

    I have a word each year. A point of focus that I talk to God about, journal about, research, look for signs of, speak out loud, and expect to make progress in. In the past few years, my words have been things like fruit and promise and I can easily name how God showed up in my life in those years in those ways. So my words are also a way to practice and stir up my faith. Because I don’t always feel so faith-filled, and maybe more often than not am a bit of a doubting Thomas.

    My word for the coming year is freedom. Among dozens of other things on the topic of freedom, the Bible says we are called to freedom and that God responds to us and sets us free. There’s also the obvious the truth shall set us free. But the one nugget I like the most (so far) is that we are not to let ourselves be burdened again or to let go of our freedom. That implies that we already have freedom – and yet I don’t feel very free in several areas of my life. Perhaps this year will bring freedom from some negative thought patterns or the expectations of others, or maybe it will bring greater freedom in my mind and heart to dream bigger or simply to be silly more. It’s only day 2 and the possibilities are endless.

    And then there’s my list. The list of things that I want to be true for Ella, Audrey and I. I started it long ago in my phone and it helps center my thoughts and prayers for us – and as we all get older and the world gets bigger, new things get added to the list. The old faithfuls are that we are healthy physically and spiritually and mentally, and that we are full of hope, givers of grace, brave. As we got further into the teen and tween years I made additions like we embrace helpers and help, we enjoy school and work, we are safe and trustworthy friends, and we make good choices. And now this year, as Ella in particular has big decisions coming up, that we seek God’s plan for us, that we are not enticed by distractions, that we are honest with ourselves.

    I do have two constant resolutions: to put my girls first in all things and to be the best Mom I can be. On days when the house is tense because we’re all arguing about curfews or the length of shirts or how it’s OK to need help, I don’t feel like I’m doing a very good job. One of the things I need to be free of is the in-the-moment worry that their anger with me means they’ll act out or hate me. It’s on those days that the list reminds me of what’s really important and all the ways that things are going right.

    Our friend Abby took this photo of us a month or so ago. It’s one of my reminders that we can go from happy to mad to playful to dessert at The Cheesecake Factory all within about a 2 hour time period.