Reconciling Sorrow

Sometimes I wonder, how do  you reconcile the sorrow.

And I think about how the word "reconcile," doesn't really belong with the word "sorrow."

Looking back on my time of service, I see pictures of the happy times and I see a particular person in the photo and I am reminded of where they are now. It is usually not good. It seems like the happy times for the people I served, were short & not long lasting.

The community life was beautiful and was a little bit of a bubble. From outside life. From real life. From the reality that would hit later.

It was a spot of heaven. On earth. For the people that may not experience it ever again.

And I am filled with sorrow for these women and their families. Like where did we go wrong, not being able to extend happiness for longer?

And I know it's nothing we did or didn't do. But the sorrow is hard to remedy, hard to stuff under the door mat.

I saw a picture of a woman today, who was so happy in her life for a couple years in connection to the community. She was shot and killed a few months ago. 

It's hard to remember the good, when there is a million stories of bad that follow.

I think there is no easy instant answer. There will always be this. The sadness. The death on the cross. I know the answer is the resurrection.

But it doesn't make the journey any easier.

The surgery I didn't know I needed.

I took my son's 6 month photos today. I feel proud to have kept him alive that long. And me.

Last night as I was trying to sleep, I realized that becoming a mother was like having open heart surgery. That I didn't know I needed.

Again,

"I realized that becoming a mother was like having open heart surgery."

I needed it to survive.
This struck me, I thought about it all through the night so I wouldn't forget it.

I have thought of a million ways to describe motherhood. The changes in my heart. The feeling, the way to describe the sensation of little hands clinging to me daily.

Sounds dramatic right?

Well, to walk you a little backwards to catch a glimpse of my journey here. My heart broke in 2004 for 4 years, as I dated one of those people that you will never quite get all the pieces back from.

In 2009, I left everything I knew and packed up my car to live in the desert. Temporarily, became 7.5 years later to here. In 2012, I opened my heart to marriage and healing and am still letting my heart be fully a sponge to this gift of love and union. (more on this another time).

But my journey is also about the work I stumbled upon for the last 7 years. I helped women. They were from all walks of life and they were broken. I was broken too, but I was in a position to help, so I did. Helping them and walking with them was one of the best things I will have done with my life, for sure. I am proud of the accomplishments we pulled off together. But it was hard. Hard work, dirty work, heart breaking work. The kind of heart break where my heart not only broke for one person, but my heart broke for so many and the pieces will forever be scattered around the country. Literally.

And so, comes in my need for open heart surgery. Whatever repairs I needed, they also needed to massage that heart and stitch it and more. The blood had to be re-pumped in there and all the valves needed some suchers.

Post surgery, here I am, at 6 months post par-tum and I can't hardly describe what it is like to have a new heart. I have so much more hope, I have so much love, and I have so much more growing on top of all those things.

For this journey, I have been on and I am on, I can't imagine life without my son. If I hadn't had him, I think my heart would have continued to break and grow hard and hopeless. I had seen too much.

But in the midst of knowing, that life isn't perfect for so many, for me, and that my story might not even end like a fairy tale, I have hope for my son, my family and my heart is bursting with the joy of motherhood.

Trash bags full

When did Inlearn to love going through a trash bag of stuff?

I have tried to pin point...

I think it started in 4th or 5th grade, my older cousins would bring clothes to trade and give away- I was a minimum of 4 years younger, so things were super big and I didn't get much.

When I was 7th grade we moved to a house in a new town. The owners had 10 kids. One day I stumbled across 20+ trash bags in the garage of clothing and shoes.

I immediately got permission to rifle through them.  It was so fun playing dress up and finding treasures. I had a light blue polyester outfit, with bell bottoms to boot, that was my favorite to just wear around the house. I had a bedroom with 3 closets, so I made one of them my "dress up," closet, with all the items.

It was the same year my parents went bankrupt, went on food stamps and pulled me out of private school.

I was homeschooled and we only got new clothes at the church rummage sale on fill a bag day. But I learned to love old man sweaters and creatively dress the best that I could.

Being thrifty and loving rifling through a trash bag of things maybe isn't appealing to most, but from a young age, I learned to make the most of it, who knew it would lead me to creating a thrift store that would make money for single mothers.

I am grateful for Gods ways.

Hey Frank

...

If we crossed paths and I could say whatever I want, I guess I wouldn't say much, unless you asked.

But I would say that I didn't hold a grudge or think you did something unforgivable.

I don't know much of the story, even though I hear it really isn't much of one.

I would let you know you did miss out on getting to know a fantastic person.

But that it was ok- I figured out how to navigate life, others came out of the works to substitute the missing family, friends and community. 

Like I said, I wouldn't say much. There isn't much to say. I am at peace with my history. You're off the hook, if you ever felt you were on one. 

I can't think of much more, so, bye Frank.

In that room

In that room

They gathered around me

They asked me what I was looking for

Answers. About us.

They all got closer and started to tune in

They all were filled with worry

The consensus was he does not treat you the way that You deserve

I thought it was silly

But followed the advice. Kind of.

10+ years later I knew what this all meant 

To its fullness

When I was in the hospital recovering from my first sons childbirth 

My husband rocked our son

Talking to him

He said lesson 1, protect your mothers dignity

As they closed a curtain in our room

I blushed

Like he had said I was beautiful 

Instead of this practical thing

I knew what it meant so many years ago

When someone could be deemed 

Not treating you as you deserve

Even if 

They are saying you are beautiful 

And their everything 

And showering you with flowers and adornment 

On this other road

This other level

In the other room

I knew finally, what it all had meant

And how deserving I had been 

Valentines Day

21 years ago. I received a velvet blue scrunchie, M & m's, and a TLC single cd of Waterfalls.

I have decided this Valentine was my first love, he had took several years to get over - get off my thoughts. 

Surprisingly middle school crushes can last a long long time, but I am also a little more sentimental than the average. 

He had been so nervous, to give me the gift, I remember being surprised by the candy and scrunched. He had promised the music. Both of us have each other music the whole relationship. Although he  pretended to like alternative a lot more than he did. And ended up with Greenday & Offspring albums. I ended up with Mariah Carey and Boys 2 Men.

Not sure what reminded me of all this - but remembering that it was 20 years ago makes me feel old. 😂