Joy in this Journey

Mother’s Day Hurts

Joy — Wed, 09 May 2012 00:40:51 +0000

Mother’s Day hurts for so many. Children, grown and growing, agonize over mothers who left or abused or stood by while others abused them. Women long to be a mother with a hunger that will not be satisfied. Others miss mothers who left this life too soon. Some are mothers in all but name, overlooked and under-appreciated.

Read the rest on the World Vision blog. (Comments closed here. I’ll see you in the comments at World Vision.)

Where I’ll Be in the Month of May

Joy — Mon, 07 May 2012 11:00:12 +0000

For a year now, I’ve committed to write Monday/ Wednesday/ Friday here on the blog. It has been excellent writing discipline and the consistency is something I hear that blog readers like. (Do you like consistency?)

I’ve felt this pull in my spirit for the last few weeks to step away from this schedule, at least for a time. I’ve decided to follow that urge and give myself a break during the month of May. This means I will only post if I have something to say. I do have a few posts planned, mostly guest posts for others, so I won’t completely disappear. But I won’t write three times a week for awhile, and I won’t be on Twitter or Facebook much.

I plan to spend more time reading, writing other things, working on our home, and just resting. My soul needs some space, some quiet, and some time to heal. Taking some of the things off my plate for a time seems to be a good way to give my soul that space it needs.

Have you ever made yourself some space to breathe and rest and heal? How did you do it? How did it go?

Saturday Evening Blog Post, April 2012

Joy — Sat, 05 May 2012 11:00:56 +0000

It’s time for the Saturday Evening Blog Post, hosted by my dear friend Elizabeth Esther.

The first Saturday of each month we look back on the previous month and highlight our favorite post. When I looked back, I saw so much emotional raw writing. It has been a tough month here. I have loved each of our marriage letters, especially the one on trust. But I think my favorite post is the one I wrote for Deeper Story, “For the Hurting on Easter.”

Do you blog? Join us at Elizabeth Esther’s place by linking your favorite post. Even if you don’t blog, check out the other posts linked there — it’s a great way to find new blogs to read.

Real or Not Real? ~ Five Minute Friday

Joy — Fri, 04 May 2012 12:32:35 +0000

“Real or not real?” The lead characters in The Hunger Games resort to asking each other this as they try to sort out what really happened and what was poison-induced hallucination.

“Real or not real?” I ask myself as I sit in the intensive care waiting room while our youngest undergoes a procedure. We spent hours and days there twelve years ago with our oldest. Memories are thick and my emotions raw as I remember and think, “How can we be here again?”

“Real or not real?” My oldest son choosing between anesthesia through a mask and through an i.v. He’s never had anything before, but he’s having surgery and I can’t believe I am watching a third child go under.

“Real or not real?” Reaching back into old dusty memories and trying to make sense of how they combined to form the woman I am now. The colors have faded and the details have blurred, and when I talk with family who were there too, their memories aren’t the same.

“Real or not real?” Watching people I love hurt people I love. Wondering why and how we got there and what to do to be a catalyst for healing. And will healing require radical amputation?

***

On Fridays, we write for fun, unedited, and for only five minutes. Today’s prompt was Real. Visit The Gypsy Mama to join in or read more posts.

This post contains affiliate links.

Finally I Can See You Crystal Clear ~ #LifeUnmasked

Joy — Wed, 02 May 2012 14:33:03 +0000

Songs express my heart so well when it’s a swirl of competing emotions. I love this song right now, because it speaks of so much more than a broken heart. It isn’t merely the words of an angry jilted lover. It mourns the tragedy and betrayal of the deliberate misuse of one’s power over another and describes the consequences.

There’s a fire starting in my heart
Reaching a fever pitch, and it’s bringin’ me out the dark
Finally I can see you crystal clear
Go ahead and sell me out, and I’ll lay your shit bare

See how I’ll leave with every piece of you
Don’t underestimate the things that I will do
There’s a fire starting in my heart
Reaching a fever pitch, and it’s bringin’ me out the dark

The scars of your love remind me of us
They keep me thinkin’ that we almost had it all
The scars of your love, they leave me breathless
I can’t help feeling

Baby, I have no story to be told
But I’ve heard one on you, and I’m gonna make your head burn
Think of me in the depths of your despair
Make a home down there as mine sure won’t be shared

(You’re gonna wish you)
The scars of your love
(Never had met me)
Remind me of us
(Tears are gonna fall)
They keep me thinking
(Rolling in the deep)
That we almost had it all
(You’re gonna wish you)
The scars of your love
(Never had met me)
They leave me breathless
(Tears are gonna fall)
I can’t help feeling
(Rolling in the deep)

We could have had it all
(You’re gonna wish you never had met me)
Rolling in the deep
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
You had my heart inside of your hand
(You’re gonna wish you never had met me)
And you played it
(Tears are gonna fall)
To the beat
(Rolling in the deep)
Adele: “Rolling in the Deep” Songwriters: Adkins, Adele Laurie Blue; Epworth, Paul Richard Publishers: EMI MUSIC PUBLISHING, LTD.; UNIVERSAL MUSIC PUBLISHING LTD.

(I hate disclaimers, but for those trying to read between the lines, this has nothing to do with my marriage or family.)

***

On Wednesdays, I host a link-up for anyone willing to step away from the pretense that all is well, who will take off their mask with me, and write naked. Being real about our hard days has tremendous capacity to encourage others in their hard days. Life isn’t always good, but we can help each other get through the tough times when we acknowledge the truth. Sometimes the tears are gonna fall.

If you’ve written anything unmasked, link up below! Please link back to this post so your readers can find others willing to bare it all, and then make sure to visit at least two others and leave them encouraging comments.

Hell Should Never Be a Punchline

Joy — Tue, 01 May 2012 11:00:20 +0000

“What do we learn about God here?” the teacher asked.

I stared at the horrifying verse in my Bible. “I will wipe from the face of the earth the human race I have created.”

I felt sick as I pictured little children drowning in the Genesis flood. My mouth remained closed while others in the class offered up responses like “God is completely holy” and “God cannot tolerate wickedness.” When the teacher began to defend God’s wrath and judgment in calculated and academic tones, I curled up into a little ball inside.

Read the rest of this post on A Deeper Story.

On Outside Influences ~ Marriage Letters

Joy — Mon, 30 Apr 2012 11:00:55 +0000

Dear Scott,

When I think about outside influences on our marriage, I think of everything outside the two of us. We have had many outside influences, but if I had to identify two of the most significant so far, I would point to Children’s Hospital and the church in which you served as an elder.

We met our first significant crisis as a couple in a dimly-lit room in the Emergency Department of Children’s. The words “heart defects” were very closely followed by, “This kind of thing is very difficult on relationships. It’s okay to get help.”

We learned how each other handles fear and uncertainty, and how crazy I get when I’m sleep deprived. The nights after her heart surgeries, we squeezed into a twin bed in the ICU sleep rooms just a few dozen yards from her room. You impressed me with your willingness to keep me company while I undertook the incredibly unsexy task of pumping breast milk every 3-4 hours (I think it’s nothing short of a miracle that you are still attracted to me after seeing that). We made charts so we could keep track of who gave which meds, and you cheered me on as I learned how to insert an NG tube into Elli’s nose and down into her stomach. Hardest of all, as the years went on we began to spend evenings discussing how to care for her when we were old and she was full-grown, and how to handle the end of her life.

It turns out that we wouldn’t need formal help until after she died.

The pressure of raising a child who needed frequent long stays at Children’s Hospital changed us. So did the pressure of taking on responsibilities at church. I have written before on how we shared the load, deferring to the one who had the most time or the strongest ability in a given area. We had learned how to work together under hospital pressure – learning foreign tasks, living in uncertainty, making life-or-death decisions. In the church, we learned how to work under a different kind of pressure – the kind that comes with working closely with different kinds of people, various degrees of expectations, and all the communication and coordination that working with people requires. We uncovered weaknesses in ourselves we didn’t know about before, like how deeply hurt and angry I get when you are misunderstood or falsely accused, and how difficult it is to bring yourself to confront someone who is already struggling.

Outside influences can’t change the core of who we are. But they bring who we are to light, in all its beauty or ugliness. Outside influences either soften hard edges and refine impurities away, or they scar and burn and shrivel. We’re a combination of all of this, with plenty of ugly, refinement, scars and softer edges, but I think we fit more tightly today than we did fourteen years ago. That’s one thing I can be thankful for in all of the heartache.

Love,

Joy

We’ve been sharing the real-life ups and downs of marriage in this weekly series in hopes that we can encourage one another to fight hard for our marriages. This week’s writing prompt was “On Outside Influences.” If you joined Scott, Seth, Amber, and I writing this week’s letters, link up at Amber’s place. We plan to take the month of May off from this series, but follow The RunaMuck on Facebook for updates because I suspect we’ll be writing letters again soon. What topics should we write on next?

What have outside influences done for your marriage?

Community: Born in an Airport ~ Five Minute Friday

Joy — Fri, 27 Apr 2012 10:45:19 +0000

I scanned the faces in the terminal nervously, looking for a glimpse of the tiny little avatars that streamed by in my Twitter feed. We were about to spend a week with each other, and here was the moment of truth. So many were “well-known” online and I was no-one, and I wondered if I would be accepted.

I spotted them, a trio of smiles making a beeline for me. Elizabeth’s smile was like sunshine and everyone laughed and hugged and we all talked at once and my heart exploded. Writers. Christians. My people.

We sat around a long table in the airport restaurant, eating our last American meal for a week and waiting for the rest of the team to trickle in from cities across the country. Very few had traveled overseas, let alone to a poor country like Bolivia. All of us left family behind. But we were a new family, an internet family finally together in person. I knew we’d be friends for life.

Five minutes is barely enough time to share even this small snippet of what swirled through my head when I read The Gypsy Mama’s writing prompt for Five Minute Friday this week, “Community.” What do you think of when you hear the word “Community”?

Tapped Out ~ Life: Unmasked

Joy — Wed, 25 Apr 2012 12:50:09 +0000

The nurse explained, “He’s on the phone with the surgeon discussing the options. He’s concerned about the right side.”

I frown. “I thought the issue was with the left side. I didn’t think he’d do anything anywhere else.”

She paused. “I don’t know. He’s done all his measurements and they are concerned about the right too.”

She left, and I sank into the hospital-grade loveseat, confused and worried. He’s talking with the surgeon. They’re concerned about both sides now. My stomach had been twisting and wringing for days (I call it “stress stomach”) but now it sunk as if a brick had dropped inside.

Surgery.

It was the last thing we wanted. Of course we wanted the best for our son, but we didn’t want the best to include surgery.

Two hours later, the doctor walked into the waiting room with a huge smile on his face. It had looked grim, but the surgeon and he agreed to give some things a try and those things were wildly successful.

“His numbers are the best they’ve ever been,” he glowed.

“So, he doesn’t need surgery?” we asked.

“We’re optimistic that he’ll be able to wait at least a few years.”

We wept prayers of thanks after he left the waiting room. I could feel the tension flooding out of me and relief pouring in.

Maybe it’s my age – I’m twelve years older than I was when we first started this journey as parents of a child with a chronic medical condition. I can’t bounce back from a night of hospital-bad sleep, a week of pre-op preparation, or the months of waiting for a procedure and its verdict. Maybe it’s that we have three kids now, and they’re all much older and have feelings and worries and fears of their own that we are trying to help them through, in addition to our own. Maybe in a sick sort of way, I need the constant state of tension and readiness to keep me going.

Or maybe I can no longer hide from the other parts of our lives that remain unsettled.

Whatever the reason, I’ve been a wreck since we got the good news last Friday. All the good nights of sleep hasn’t been enough to restore my energy. Instead of joy, the prevailing mood has been discouragement and despair.

It doesn’t make sense. We got good news. But I am tapped out.

***

On Wednesdays, I host a link-up for anyone willing to step away from the pretense that all is well, take off their mask, and write naked. I believe being real about our hard days has tremendous capacity to encourage others who are struggling. Life isn’t perfect all the time, but we can help each other get through the tough times when we acknowledge that and come alongside.

Powerful Words Are Like Tabasco Sauce ~ Just Write

Joy — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 11:00:19 +0000

He reads slowly, painfully slow to a speed reader like myself. But he savors every word, every nuance, and looks up with full grasp of what the black-and-white says. I so easily forget what the letters and spaces say I get so buried in the dialogue and context in my head.

He thinks for a few minutes, and I wait for it. He clearly has found something.

“I don’t think you want to say ‘I’ve lived my entire life among…’ because I don’t think I’m part of that. But that’s what that sentence means.”

I protest. “But the word ‘among’ isn’t all-inclusive. It just means some. If I meant everyone including you I would have said ‘I’ve been surrounded my entire life by….’”

“Joy, people will read that sentence to mean that you are immersed in that, and saying ‘entire life’ includes now. Now includes me. Do you really think I’m part of that group?”

I frown, irritated that he is unconvinced by my defense. “No, of course not,” I huff.

He waits as I stare at the screen, rolling through word options under my breath. How do I convey what I actually mean? What is the right word? I know he’s right, even though I’m loathe to admit it.

I like powerful words, evocative words, words that light fires and provoke reactions and maybe, hopefully, prompt action. But fiery words too often come off harsh, angry, or combative.

I’m not sure why I love fiery words. I think part of it is that as a woman, I think I need them to be heard at all, like all my fiery words are only so much whisper in the world so less extreme words would disappear completely. Part of it could also be a desire to make the most of every opportunity, go for the gusto, not beat around the bush. (I can be a little blunt in person and dislike word games. Just spit it out is my motto.)

Whatever the reason, my fiery words don’t truly convey my heart. While I’m passionate about life and justice and charity, I strive to work and speak out of love and compassion, not anger and vengeance. How do I convey passion without angst? Injustice without anger? Urgency without bombast? I don’t know.

My husband is a word lover like me. He knows me well enough to sense what I am trying to communicate. He also hears how the typed words I use will land on others, and cares to help me bridge the gap he sometimes finds between my meaning and the words themselves. He and I wrangle words, pinning them down and grasping for the just-right way to express an idea.

Ever so slowly, as I let him help me craft clearer messages (even though I usually think they are too nicey-nice, lacking sufficient oomph), I’m learning that using strong words too frequently is like pouring half the bottle of Tobasco sauce in the pot of homemade refried beans. It sends everyone running for milk or Pepto Bismol, eyes watering and mouths on fire, wondering what the hell is wrong with me. I may like it strong, but I’m one of the few.

The painful truth seems to be that if I want to accurately communicate, I have to back off the Tobasco. My husband says I should try honey instead. Honestly, that doesn’t sound very appetizing. But if that’s what people prefer to read…

This is going to be a hard habit to break.

Written with Heather of the Extraordinary Ordinary and Jen and Sarah at Momalom for Five for Five.

Joy in this Journey

Mother’s Day Hurts

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Where I’ll Be in the Month of May

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Saturday Evening Blog Post, April 2012

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Real or Not Real? ~ Five Minute Friday

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Finally I Can See You Crystal Clear ~ #LifeUnmasked

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Hell Should Never Be a Punchline

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On Outside Influences ~ Marriage Letters

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Community: Born in an Airport ~ Five Minute Friday

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Tapped Out ~ Life: Unmasked

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Powerful Words Are Like Tabasco Sauce ~ Just Write

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