Your mistakes do not define you.
Those decisions you determine are poor decisions once its too late to take them back do not determine your character.
Your character is determined by how you handle the difficult news the stranger told you on the phone a few minutes ago. Your personality is revealed by your deepest desires, dreams and wishes.
The brief moment when you were selfish does not mean you are a selfish person. The brief moment when you got angry at injustice does not mean you are an angry person. The brief moment when you couldn't wait your turn does not mean you are an impatient person.
It is okay to own your mistakes. It is okay to apologize for missing the mark. You are not admitting to being a bad person, you are admitting to a mistake and owning up to your actions. You are requesting others forgive your mistake and recognize it was an action or a possible reaction and not the essence of who you are.
You are not your mistakes.
Life is constantly surprising us. As much as we would like to be in control and think we can handle each surprise and each new turn in the path or each rock that trips us along the way, we can't. We get overwhelmed. We get tired. We become weary in the battle and sometimes we let our guard down. Sometimes the first thought pours out of our mouth when in reality we wanted to swallow it and forget it. Sometimes our self-control shows up late to the party. While we are waiting for it to arrive, it feels like someone is controlling us with a remote control and laughing at the results. Sometimes we are certain we are correct and bury our feet in certainty, until the light shines and we are proven incredibly wrong.
Dwelling on these mistakes only creates pain and regret. Expecting to never make the mistakes in the first place is unhealthy and unrealistic.
Dealing with mistakes is comparable to dealing with obstacles. You assess them. You move around them, over them, under them or through them. Then you learn from them. You learn how to handle the future. You learn how to make better decisions next time. And sometimes, you make the same mistake a hundred more times.
I remember times when my girls were younger and they could push each and every one of my buttons. I was exhausted and overwhelmed, they were simply normal children doing what children do, but I would blow. The room was finally too messy, the noise was finally too loud or they were too needy. I don't remember all I said or did, but I know I overreacted. I inevitably came back apologizing for my actions and telling them I loved them. They never labeled me a bad mom for those moments. They saw me as a human being. A human being they could trust to let them make their own mistakes.
My reactions didn't define me, but my actions did. They knew and still know it is okay to be a human who makes mistakes.
The secret to a successful journey is to walk, when you trip, get up, and keep walking. The scratch on your leg is not the sum of you. It is a small scratch that will heal. It may leave a scar to remind you of where you have been and what you have done. That scar is not a definition of your whole self anymore than a dog's tail determines what kind of dog it is.
Rejoice in your mistakes because your journey is not over and you get to try again. Rejoice in the strength of your character and personality which stands and endures all the bumps and bruises along the journey.
Sunday, October 14, 2018
Sunday, October 7, 2018
Problems
What is the worst that can happen?
More than likely, whatever is happening now is far from the worst.
Life is about choosing which problems you'd prefer and accepting our problems our actually our choices.
These thoughts were inspired by words from Mark Manson.
Let me explain by sharing a couple of personal examples.
When Jenny called me on October 1, 2012 to tell me I had breast cancer, I had no choice in whether or not breast cancer would be one of my problems, but I did get to choose which steps I would take and how I would think about this problem.
I chose to keep moving. I decided going to work everyday, being with my family and attempting to continue to do my daily tasks, although difficult, was a better problem for me to face than sitting around waiting for the cancer to do whatever it wanted to do.
I chose to embrace my thoughts of fear of the unknown and doubt about my ability to stand in the face of the emotional and physical attack constantly berating me. I wrote down my thoughts. I acknowledged them then I daily, hourly, minute by minute surrendered myself and my situation to my Daddy. The daily emotional battle was a better problem for me than holding my emotions in and pretending to be okay until one day I had nothing left.
When I was diagnosed with MS in February of 2015, I didn't get to choose whether or not MS would be a problem I would deal with for the rest of my life, but I did get to choose what my future days would look like and how I would choose to prepare myself for this disease.
I chose to keep moving. I chose to go to work. I chose to listen to my body. When I was weary, I rested. I chose to eat food that would strengthen my body. I chose to exercise to increase my balance, strength and awareness of myself. I choose to embrace what I could control about my health. All these choices took extra work and energy and didn't always mean I was doing what I wanted, but they were better problems than sitting back and letting MS do whatever it wanted and passively allowing it.
I chose not to dwell on the possibility that MS could come steal whatever it wanted from me in a moment's notice and instead deal with the problem of fully embracing each moment and each ability I had. If today I can run, I am blessed and thankful. If tomorrow I can't run, I am thankful I didn't take my ability for granted while I had it. Then I hope for another day of running.
Last November when walking, sitting and standing was too painful, my herniated disc pressing on my sciatic nerve could have been the problem that consumed me and made my quit trying. I chose to lie down and remind myself that this was temporary. As my strength disappeared because of my new completely sedentary life style, I reminded myself I would be strong again one day. I simply had to pass through this storm. Once I was allowed to walk again, I walked. I chose to deal with the problems of snow and cold in order to walk and gain my strength back. I celebrated each step further than the day before. I rejoiced at my faster times each time I journeyed into the cold.
Our new house was one of our greatest blessings. We relinquished problems of needed repairs, high utility bills and long commutes when we moved. We have new problems in our new home: higher mortgage, new cleaning products to buy, and large windows to clean. Quite honestly, the problems in our new home aren't problems at all to me, but they technically are. They are the problems I choose.
I choose my problems and in the midst of problems I can't choose, I choose my reaction. MS taught me to fully embrace what I can control and surrender to what I can't. I can control my actions, my reactions, my thoughts and my choices. I don't have time to waste my energy and thoughts on what I can't control.
More than likely, whatever is happening now is far from the worst.
Life is about choosing which problems you'd prefer and accepting our problems our actually our choices.
These thoughts were inspired by words from Mark Manson.
Let me explain by sharing a couple of personal examples.
When Jenny called me on October 1, 2012 to tell me I had breast cancer, I had no choice in whether or not breast cancer would be one of my problems, but I did get to choose which steps I would take and how I would think about this problem.
I chose to keep moving. I decided going to work everyday, being with my family and attempting to continue to do my daily tasks, although difficult, was a better problem for me to face than sitting around waiting for the cancer to do whatever it wanted to do.
I chose to embrace my thoughts of fear of the unknown and doubt about my ability to stand in the face of the emotional and physical attack constantly berating me. I wrote down my thoughts. I acknowledged them then I daily, hourly, minute by minute surrendered myself and my situation to my Daddy. The daily emotional battle was a better problem for me than holding my emotions in and pretending to be okay until one day I had nothing left.
When I was diagnosed with MS in February of 2015, I didn't get to choose whether or not MS would be a problem I would deal with for the rest of my life, but I did get to choose what my future days would look like and how I would choose to prepare myself for this disease.
I chose to keep moving. I chose to go to work. I chose to listen to my body. When I was weary, I rested. I chose to eat food that would strengthen my body. I chose to exercise to increase my balance, strength and awareness of myself. I choose to embrace what I could control about my health. All these choices took extra work and energy and didn't always mean I was doing what I wanted, but they were better problems than sitting back and letting MS do whatever it wanted and passively allowing it.
I chose not to dwell on the possibility that MS could come steal whatever it wanted from me in a moment's notice and instead deal with the problem of fully embracing each moment and each ability I had. If today I can run, I am blessed and thankful. If tomorrow I can't run, I am thankful I didn't take my ability for granted while I had it. Then I hope for another day of running.
Last November when walking, sitting and standing was too painful, my herniated disc pressing on my sciatic nerve could have been the problem that consumed me and made my quit trying. I chose to lie down and remind myself that this was temporary. As my strength disappeared because of my new completely sedentary life style, I reminded myself I would be strong again one day. I simply had to pass through this storm. Once I was allowed to walk again, I walked. I chose to deal with the problems of snow and cold in order to walk and gain my strength back. I celebrated each step further than the day before. I rejoiced at my faster times each time I journeyed into the cold.
Our new house was one of our greatest blessings. We relinquished problems of needed repairs, high utility bills and long commutes when we moved. We have new problems in our new home: higher mortgage, new cleaning products to buy, and large windows to clean. Quite honestly, the problems in our new home aren't problems at all to me, but they technically are. They are the problems I choose.
I choose my problems and in the midst of problems I can't choose, I choose my reaction. MS taught me to fully embrace what I can control and surrender to what I can't. I can control my actions, my reactions, my thoughts and my choices. I don't have time to waste my energy and thoughts on what I can't control.
Sunday, September 30, 2018
Braking
"It's harder to go down hill. You have to keep your brakes on all the time."
My husband's great grandpa often said this quote. It may seem obvious, but I don't I'm not sure we think about it all the time.
When we travel from our house to visit family we have to go over a mountain pass any direction we go. There are some steep grade downhill areas coming out of the passes. In each of those areas there is a runoff truck ramp. The creators of these roads know that semi trucks weighing many tons are coming down these hills. Truckers have their foot on the brakes and sometimes these brakes can't take any more pressure and give out. Trucks then turn onto these gravel roads and slow down.
The only relief for these trucks is to drag their tires uphill through deep, difficult gravel.
A few years ago while in Bozeman, Montana we had the opportunity to hike the M. The M is a destination at the mouth of Bridger Canyon. There are two trails up to it: one is windy, the other is extremely steep, traveling straight up the 820 feet in elevation. As difficult as the steep trail is, the most difficult part is coming down. Your toes try to jam themselves into the ends of your shoes. Your knees ache from the extra force on them. You have to be careful not to let your speed get away from you or you will go down the hill faster than your feet can keep up with. Your head will have reached the end of the trail while the rest of your body is frantically trying to keep up so you don't get hurt.
The only relief comes in the bends in the trail that attempt to keep you on a more level plane on your way down.
My husband's family shared a story where they took his grandma up a steep trail to use the restroom. The adventure included some creative teamwork to get the wheel chair over roots and rocks and through the grass and dirt. They succeeded in reaching the restroom then the most difficult part of the journey began: the trial back down. They had to hold the front and back of the wheelchair to keep it from rolling uncontrollable down the hill.
The only relief came from keeping the brakes on and going slowly down the hill.
Our journeys are full of hills. Often times we think of our difficulties as a steep hill we traverse hoping to get to the top where we can enjoy the amazing view. We forget the journey back down the hill may be difficult also. Your brakes might fail and you have to climb back up the hill to slow down. The trail down might be slow and windy, full of bends taking you far from where you think you should be going, but each bend is intended to keep you from hurting yourself and running faster than you are ready for down to the bottom. Sometimes you feel like you are traveling with your brakes on. The pace feels too slow, but you know if you let up on the brakes everything will pass you by and you may fall when you finally reach the bottom.
Journeys are unique. The view changes with each new step. The trials and difficult bends come and go. We get scared about the steep climb up the hill, but we should also be cautious about the downhill journeys. If we think we can coast to the bottom of the hill, we may either miss out on some important parts of our path or we can hurt ourselves along the way. "It's all downhill from here" does not mean the rest of the journey will be easy. It means we have to be careful and slowly take one step at a time.
My solution to these up and down journeys is to focus on where I am right now. I try to watch my step. I try to enjoy what I see. I try to prepare myself for surprises, but ultimately I can only walk the path in front of me. I can only see my next step. I walk my own path.
These past few weeks I had to put on my brakes. I caught a cold that refused to leave. I have spent 3 weeks resting then working then resting. I got excited when I started to feel better and took my foot off the brake then I started to fall down the hill and had to put on my brakes again. I may have ended up in the gravel at some point when I failed to use my brakes when I should have. I'm finally starting to feel better again. This time I won't let my foot off the brake so quickly.
Enjoy your journey with all the ups and downs, races, and slow strolls.
My husband's great grandpa often said this quote. It may seem obvious, but I don't I'm not sure we think about it all the time.
When we travel from our house to visit family we have to go over a mountain pass any direction we go. There are some steep grade downhill areas coming out of the passes. In each of those areas there is a runoff truck ramp. The creators of these roads know that semi trucks weighing many tons are coming down these hills. Truckers have their foot on the brakes and sometimes these brakes can't take any more pressure and give out. Trucks then turn onto these gravel roads and slow down.
The only relief for these trucks is to drag their tires uphill through deep, difficult gravel.
A few years ago while in Bozeman, Montana we had the opportunity to hike the M. The M is a destination at the mouth of Bridger Canyon. There are two trails up to it: one is windy, the other is extremely steep, traveling straight up the 820 feet in elevation. As difficult as the steep trail is, the most difficult part is coming down. Your toes try to jam themselves into the ends of your shoes. Your knees ache from the extra force on them. You have to be careful not to let your speed get away from you or you will go down the hill faster than your feet can keep up with. Your head will have reached the end of the trail while the rest of your body is frantically trying to keep up so you don't get hurt.
The only relief comes in the bends in the trail that attempt to keep you on a more level plane on your way down.
My husband's family shared a story where they took his grandma up a steep trail to use the restroom. The adventure included some creative teamwork to get the wheel chair over roots and rocks and through the grass and dirt. They succeeded in reaching the restroom then the most difficult part of the journey began: the trial back down. They had to hold the front and back of the wheelchair to keep it from rolling uncontrollable down the hill.
The only relief came from keeping the brakes on and going slowly down the hill.
Our journeys are full of hills. Often times we think of our difficulties as a steep hill we traverse hoping to get to the top where we can enjoy the amazing view. We forget the journey back down the hill may be difficult also. Your brakes might fail and you have to climb back up the hill to slow down. The trail down might be slow and windy, full of bends taking you far from where you think you should be going, but each bend is intended to keep you from hurting yourself and running faster than you are ready for down to the bottom. Sometimes you feel like you are traveling with your brakes on. The pace feels too slow, but you know if you let up on the brakes everything will pass you by and you may fall when you finally reach the bottom.
Journeys are unique. The view changes with each new step. The trials and difficult bends come and go. We get scared about the steep climb up the hill, but we should also be cautious about the downhill journeys. If we think we can coast to the bottom of the hill, we may either miss out on some important parts of our path or we can hurt ourselves along the way. "It's all downhill from here" does not mean the rest of the journey will be easy. It means we have to be careful and slowly take one step at a time.
My solution to these up and down journeys is to focus on where I am right now. I try to watch my step. I try to enjoy what I see. I try to prepare myself for surprises, but ultimately I can only walk the path in front of me. I can only see my next step. I walk my own path.
These past few weeks I had to put on my brakes. I caught a cold that refused to leave. I have spent 3 weeks resting then working then resting. I got excited when I started to feel better and took my foot off the brake then I started to fall down the hill and had to put on my brakes again. I may have ended up in the gravel at some point when I failed to use my brakes when I should have. I'm finally starting to feel better again. This time I won't let my foot off the brake so quickly.
Enjoy your journey with all the ups and downs, races, and slow strolls.
Sunday, September 23, 2018
Lawn Mowers
This morning my husband read me an article about lawn mower parents. I had heard of helicopter parents, parents who are always watching over everything their kids do. They hover and and are ever-present. I hadn't heard of lawn mower parents until this morning. These parents are constantly clearing obstacles out of their child's way. Anything that might hurt them is removed. This constant lawn mowing teaches children they can't handle adversity or stress. It teaches them they are not strong enough for the obstacles life throws at them.
I've seen the evidence of this. As a teacher, I hear students tell me they can't do things because they have been told they can't. They can't handle stress. They can't focus. They can't do math. None of these can'ts are true. They simply haven't learned how yet.
As he was reading the article, I thought about the person I would be now if I hadn't passed through so much adversity in my life. It didn't start with cancer diagnosis, but that was a big moment in my transformation. I began to see people more clearly and had better priorities. Each obstacle I encounter is another opportunity to become stronger, not to give up. Each trial that falls at my feet is an opportunity to learn a better way rather than retreat in failure.
You can go back and read old posts about how I handled adversity in the big, difficult moments, but I still get excited about the little moments too. I've had some form of a cold or left overs of a cold for two weeks now. I've spent 3 different weekends resting to some extent so I can do my job during the week. I could easily quit. I could easily say "I don't feel well, see you when I do." But I don't. I rest when I can. I make the smartest choices I can about what I eat and what I spend my energy on. I don't run myself into the ground, but I also don't give up. I took almost a week off of exercise when my cold was at its worst, but I am back to it now. Some would use their illness as an excuse and refuse to exercise. I have found that as long as I can, it can't speed up the healing process. Yesterday, after my workout, I threw up. I threw up a bunch of crud that was sitting in my chest and would have remained if I hadn't exerted extra energy.
I still get tired. I still have days of pain. I still have to take a day at the end of the week to recover. However, I have overcome more obstacles than I can count in my 41 years and am thankful for each one.
I believe my adversities have made me more grounded, compassionate, understanding and peaceful.
As you face your own difficulties, I pray no one mows them down for you so you can see how strong and amazing you are. I pray you overcome every adversity and look back at what you can accomplish. When the next trial comes you will know you can handle it because of all you have already accomplished.
I've seen the evidence of this. As a teacher, I hear students tell me they can't do things because they have been told they can't. They can't handle stress. They can't focus. They can't do math. None of these can'ts are true. They simply haven't learned how yet.
As he was reading the article, I thought about the person I would be now if I hadn't passed through so much adversity in my life. It didn't start with cancer diagnosis, but that was a big moment in my transformation. I began to see people more clearly and had better priorities. Each obstacle I encounter is another opportunity to become stronger, not to give up. Each trial that falls at my feet is an opportunity to learn a better way rather than retreat in failure.
You can go back and read old posts about how I handled adversity in the big, difficult moments, but I still get excited about the little moments too. I've had some form of a cold or left overs of a cold for two weeks now. I've spent 3 different weekends resting to some extent so I can do my job during the week. I could easily quit. I could easily say "I don't feel well, see you when I do." But I don't. I rest when I can. I make the smartest choices I can about what I eat and what I spend my energy on. I don't run myself into the ground, but I also don't give up. I took almost a week off of exercise when my cold was at its worst, but I am back to it now. Some would use their illness as an excuse and refuse to exercise. I have found that as long as I can, it can't speed up the healing process. Yesterday, after my workout, I threw up. I threw up a bunch of crud that was sitting in my chest and would have remained if I hadn't exerted extra energy.
I still get tired. I still have days of pain. I still have to take a day at the end of the week to recover. However, I have overcome more obstacles than I can count in my 41 years and am thankful for each one.
I believe my adversities have made me more grounded, compassionate, understanding and peaceful.
As you face your own difficulties, I pray no one mows them down for you so you can see how strong and amazing you are. I pray you overcome every adversity and look back at what you can accomplish. When the next trial comes you will know you can handle it because of all you have already accomplished.
Sunday, September 16, 2018
Colds
After taking 6 weeks off of teaching last year due to back surgery, I was determined to have a healthy school year this year. I was determined not to get sick and not to have to take a bunch of days off.
So this past week I caught a cold.
I only had to take one sick day, but I was sick all week. I spent most of the past two weekends on the couch trying to rest and heal so I could make it through the work week.
A little bit of pride snuck in. I thought I could will myself to remain healthy. I was quickly reminded I do not have the power to will health on myself. I can only make the best choices available to me and when illness sneaks in anyway, I have to succumb and give myself time to heal.
You can't ignore illnesses and pretend you are well, you will simply get more ill.
You can't ignore fatigue and keep moving, you will eventually collapse.
You can't ignore a needed rest, it will catch up to you in the end.
You have to care for yourself.
You have to eat food that makes you feel strong and powerful.
You have to exercise and let you body move and gain strength.
You have to sleep and let your mind and body rest.
I know these things. I've been fighting against them for years. I've been deciding between work and rest since I was in high school and choose homework or friends over sleep. I chose motherly and wifely duties over rest when my girls were little. I choose school work over rest for many of my early teaching years.
Then cancer came. . . then MS. . . then debilitating pain leading to back surgery and I learned that my health isn't greater than any other choice.
I'm stronger than I've ever been. I can run and move without exhaustion. I've learned how to eat so I have more strength and energy and I love what I get to eat. Most importantly, I know how to rest. I know when my body needs a break and I take it. I know when I am catching a cold and take precautions to let my body repair itself. I don't put myself in jeopardy by neglecting sleep. Most importantly, I don't feel badly for taking care of myself.
If your health slips away it takes a lot of time and a lot of work to get it back. I have mine. It doesn't matter what my medical record says. I am healthy and amazing and having a cold for a week simply gives me a chance to remember how grateful I am for all I can do. It reminds me it is okay to take sick days and it is okay celebrate healthy days.
I feel like I talk about how important it is to do everything you can to remain healthy a lot, but as I look around, so many people are unhealthy. Just 4 months ago I weighed 15 pounds more than I do now. I didn't know I had that much weight to lose. I didn't know I was eating food that helped to keep my mind foggy and maintain lethargic energy. I didn't know until I changed, until I started to make different decisions.
I want everyone to feel strong and healthy. I want everyone to have energy and to be happy in their own skin. I've been to all the other places of health and want to stay where I am for as long as I can. In fact, this past week I was unable to exercise and I still lost weight (fat, not just muscle) and I still PR'd my bench press today. I was extra fit before I got sick so I didn't lose my health. In fact, my level of fitness probably helps me heal faster.
Take the time and energy to invest in yourself. Your health is worth more than anything else you can invest in.
Sunday, September 9, 2018
Weak Strength
I am strong and I am weak.
Sometimes I am strong. I celebrate all I am capable of doing. I am great at my job. I can function physically. I ran an easy mile the other day. I am a good mom. I'm a good wife.
Yet, at the same time I am weak. I may be good at my job, but I still feel tired. I am more capable than I should be, yet I still have so many weaknesses.
Paul said, "When I am weak, then You are strong." He was speaking about how he can overcome his weaknesses because God gave him the strength to do so.
Perhaps that is why I feel my weaknesses and strengths simultaneously. It isn't really that I am strong, it is that my Daddy makes me strong in my weakest moments.
So, here's to celebrating strength and weakness.
Here's to each victory and each difficulty. In the end, I passed through and am still here.
Here's to moving forward every day.
Here's to being strong when we really just want to lay down.
Here's to being weak and not being afraid of what will come next.
Here's to our weak strength.
Sometimes I am strong. I celebrate all I am capable of doing. I am great at my job. I can function physically. I ran an easy mile the other day. I am a good mom. I'm a good wife.
Yet, at the same time I am weak. I may be good at my job, but I still feel tired. I am more capable than I should be, yet I still have so many weaknesses.
Paul said, "When I am weak, then You are strong." He was speaking about how he can overcome his weaknesses because God gave him the strength to do so.
Perhaps that is why I feel my weaknesses and strengths simultaneously. It isn't really that I am strong, it is that my Daddy makes me strong in my weakest moments.
So, here's to celebrating strength and weakness.
Here's to each victory and each difficulty. In the end, I passed through and am still here.
Here's to moving forward every day.
Here's to being strong when we really just want to lay down.
Here's to being weak and not being afraid of what will come next.
Here's to our weak strength.
Sunday, September 2, 2018
Beneath the Surface
This week I've noticed that the deep, dark, strong feelings life brings around on the days we are strong enough to handle them are never truly gone. They sit just beneath the surface.
Like a needle digging out a splinter that goes too deep, events can poke into those buried feelings and spring a leak.
If I watch a movie or read a book about grandmas I remember and miss my grandma. Pansies, tractors, cows (especially calves), dragonflies and the simple life remind me of her. I remember my visits. I remember hot chocolate and Almond Roca. I remember walks, talks and days in the garden. The memories are as clear as yesterday and so are the tears flowing up from the deep places where I keep them buried because my sadness is simply to painful to bear for more than a moment at a time. Even now, the tears have returned. My husband is going to wonder what is going on as I work to push them back to the dark place and come back to the present where Grandma is no longer here.
I read or hear stories about people fighting cancer and quickly remember the pain I bore, both physically and emotionally. I am forever thankful that pain is in my past, but the memory of it and the scars it left behind are still very much a part of me. I suppose the pain is why I am so happy to try to bring hope to others who are on the same fighting journey. I have not forgotten. I know how difficult each breath and each step becomes in those dark places and hope to provide light.
I understand loss and I understand pain. The other day, we watched a movie that threatened to tap into my dark place. The tears tried to overtake me and all the pain and sadness tried to wash over me. I held it at bay. I don't know if it's healthy to keep it buried so deep. I haven't forgotten it. I know it is there every moment of every day, but the flood of pain and sadness is too great for me to bear. I see glimpses of it when life pricks a little too deep or a memory opens a window, but for the most part, the pain drives me to find healing and the sadness drives me to find joy.
I know in the midst of your difficult journey, the layer keeping your pain and sadness from overtaking you is as thin as an onion skin. It wouldn't take much for it to fly away, to be punctured, or for others to look too deeply and see through it. I know the pain and sadness are ultimately healthy, but the weight of them is too much to hold all at once. You learn to feel it in waves. I used to feel it in the restroom. No one was going to interrupt me. I took a moment to feel. I breathed deep, cried, then gathered myself to go out into the world once again.
Unfortunately, the beautiful memories driving us and giving us hope are often buried with the pain and sadness. I pray you learn how to access both and to let the memories remind you of the beauty that has formed you and the sadness will give you strength to remember in the end the sadness will also be beautiful.
It's okay to be strong and it's okay to feel every little thing coming your way whether it's beneath the surface our spouting like a geyser.
You are okay.
You are amazing.
You will be victorious.
Like a needle digging out a splinter that goes too deep, events can poke into those buried feelings and spring a leak.
If I watch a movie or read a book about grandmas I remember and miss my grandma. Pansies, tractors, cows (especially calves), dragonflies and the simple life remind me of her. I remember my visits. I remember hot chocolate and Almond Roca. I remember walks, talks and days in the garden. The memories are as clear as yesterday and so are the tears flowing up from the deep places where I keep them buried because my sadness is simply to painful to bear for more than a moment at a time. Even now, the tears have returned. My husband is going to wonder what is going on as I work to push them back to the dark place and come back to the present where Grandma is no longer here.
I read or hear stories about people fighting cancer and quickly remember the pain I bore, both physically and emotionally. I am forever thankful that pain is in my past, but the memory of it and the scars it left behind are still very much a part of me. I suppose the pain is why I am so happy to try to bring hope to others who are on the same fighting journey. I have not forgotten. I know how difficult each breath and each step becomes in those dark places and hope to provide light.
I understand loss and I understand pain. The other day, we watched a movie that threatened to tap into my dark place. The tears tried to overtake me and all the pain and sadness tried to wash over me. I held it at bay. I don't know if it's healthy to keep it buried so deep. I haven't forgotten it. I know it is there every moment of every day, but the flood of pain and sadness is too great for me to bear. I see glimpses of it when life pricks a little too deep or a memory opens a window, but for the most part, the pain drives me to find healing and the sadness drives me to find joy.
I know in the midst of your difficult journey, the layer keeping your pain and sadness from overtaking you is as thin as an onion skin. It wouldn't take much for it to fly away, to be punctured, or for others to look too deeply and see through it. I know the pain and sadness are ultimately healthy, but the weight of them is too much to hold all at once. You learn to feel it in waves. I used to feel it in the restroom. No one was going to interrupt me. I took a moment to feel. I breathed deep, cried, then gathered myself to go out into the world once again.
Unfortunately, the beautiful memories driving us and giving us hope are often buried with the pain and sadness. I pray you learn how to access both and to let the memories remind you of the beauty that has formed you and the sadness will give you strength to remember in the end the sadness will also be beautiful.
It's okay to be strong and it's okay to feel every little thing coming your way whether it's beneath the surface our spouting like a geyser.
You are okay.
You are amazing.
You will be victorious.
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