For such a time as this

Someone said to me yesterday, “It’s better this way.”  Better for whom?  Certainly not me.  Better to be raked over the coals yet again, to be accused, debased, condemned, rejected, vilified – again?  How is that better?  I had resigned myself to an overwhelming degree of loss – far beyond what most could imagine or survive – yet the losses keep coming.  Always at the hands of so-called ‘loved ones.’  I’m speaking cryptically and I apologize.

I think I’m done.  I’ve got nothing left.  I refuse to live my life with hate and anger and vengeance – I refuse to allow those things to take root in my heart.  And yet, I also refuse to be the target for more abuse and accusation.  I’m not going to defend myself – the accusations are baseless and deceitful – and no one would listen anyway.  Their minds have already been made up.  But that doesn’t mean I have to be a part of it anymore.

I remember a conversation my husband and I had about Nathan – our precious son who died nearly three years ago.  We both acknowledged, years before his death, a ‘deep knowing’ that Nathan would die young.  There was no reason for it, no logical source for that awareness, we both just knew.  Likewise, I’ve always had the same ‘deep knowing’ that if I ever lost my husband, I would lose my children too.  I certainly don’t think it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, but I see that I’m losing them one-by-one as well.  I have poured out my life in loving other women’s children.  I’m the substitute parent anyway, so I suppose the connection isn’t as strong as I hoped it was.  I love them – always will – I especially miss my grandsons whom I’ve not seen in nearly two years.

You’ll have to forgive me, but this isn’t better.  It’s more hurt, more loss, more brokenness, more tears.  It feels as if someone has ripped my heart out of my chest – already bruised and bloody from previous beatings – but now they are grinding broken glass into it before shoving it violently back into my chest. 

My faith.  My life.  My home.  My business.  That is all.  But it’s something.  It’s the foundation of a new life.  Lord, come quickly.  I’m ready to go Home.

I was determined that yesterday was not going to nose dive.  I did fine for several hours, then came home to some pretty hateful correspondence that cut right through my heart.  Same old, same old.  But when it comes from people who were once close to me, it’s especially hard.  It just doesn’t end.

So I spent some time last night praying and considering the roles of my life.  Wife is still there – very, very different, but still there.  Daughter – especially important now.  Sister – I noticed that once again my family is down to “us five” – my two parents and my two brothers and me.  Full circle.  Friend – God, thank you so very, very much for faithful, loving friends.  Nana – I would still very much like to be grandparent to those three precious boys.  Volunteer – increasingly important given my need for occassional social interaction and just to get my focus off the hollowness of my life.  Mom/Stepmom - still very, very much in question and not looking particularly promising.

However, I have this scruffy gift from God, who greets me with delight every morning, gives me a reason to get out of bed, makes me laugh when I want to cry, and curls up next to me in the quiet, lonely evenings.  He is truly a gift.

Yesterday was a good day – a day of significant accomplishments.  Well, maybe not to you, but definitely to me.  I have finally, after hours and weeks and months of work, laid up all the firewood I’ll need for this winter.  And I have decided I don’t ever want to do that again!  With three people it was a lot of work, but manageable.  By myself, even with the help of a few friends to cut rounds and split for a few hours, egads!  So over winter, as I am warming myself by the lovely heat of a woodstove, I will be plotting ways to get a new heating system installed for next year.

My husband’s monster pickup truck is gone – sent to a consignment lot in Florence down the coast.  This is an answer to a very specific prayer.  Of all the many, many responsibilities and decisions now before me, selling off all this equipment has been the most anxiety producing for me.  So my prayer had been for God to send His people that I could trust to help me.  I think Pastor Ron is an answer to that prayer.  God bless him as he ministers to me in this very practical way.  It was heartbreaking to see another vestige of my life-before driving out of sight, so I did give myself several minutes to grieve before moving on.

I also did something I’d never done before.  Over the past year I had participated on the Local Foods Task Force.  The purpose of the group was to examine the security of our local food supply, and promote consumption of locally grown and produced foods.  Interesting group and, unusually, quite effective in making decisions and getting things done.  That doesn’t usually happen in committees.  Anyway, one of my new pals is Chef Sharon of the Pacific Coast Center for Culinary Arts.  Sharon had asked if I would be interested in being a volunteer helper at some of the classes, so last night I did it!  And I had a great time!

Understand, because of the severity of attacks against me in recent months, and in response to my own overwhelming grief, by necessity I had to seriously withdraw from people.  And when I have gotten together with folks, small groups have been the most manageable.  I’ve had to leave gatherings with more than a handful of people just because of the anxiety factor.  So the fact that I could be in a room with 20 people (4 from Chicago – that was a nice chat!) and laugh and joke and enjoy good food and company, that was a milestone.  It was a late night by my standards and my sweet puppy was SOOOO happy to see me when I finally got home (it’s good to be loved!).  Overall, it was a satisfactory day.

So today, with the cool overcast of August, the leaves already beginning to turn and sometimes fall, my Thursday consists of basic tasks like laundry, cleaning the house, planning a family get together (Saturday, September 26 – mark your calendar), and playing with puppy, and some mundane yet necessary tasks like trying to gain two more linear feet of office space (Yes, I am measuring my progress by the foot!  Just keeping it simple.), and preparing for a bizaar hearing this afternoon to apparently resolve what had already been resolved?  Don’t ask me…I dunno. 

I’m praying that today will, overall, be another good day.  It doesn’t take much for a day to be considered good.  Good is accomplishing something ordinary without breaking into tears.  Good is experiencing the deep twinges of grief and yet not being overwhelmed by them.  Good is knowing the faithfulness of true friends and the loving give-and-take from those relationships.  Good is in the realization of so many answered prayers.  God is good.  I’m good too.