Oh, January

As per usual, January was a s**t show (don’t let that picture fool you, it’s from February). I don’t know why we can’t have a calm January, but , there we were. Last year, January started with my worst bout of covid yet, a broken foot and a tree crashing through our house (that took months to fix). This year, the drama was more emotional, but still devastating, and I was  recovering from my second back surgery in three months. It was also one of our longest, coldest, iciest January months we’ve seen in these parts for quite a while- like two weeks in the twenties!

So, in February, when my husband got to travel to a warmer environment (say, like, Ft. Lauderdale), I asked if this was a can-your-wife-tag-along trip? He checked, and the answer was yes (yay!!)!! 

Praise God! For real! In all things, yes, even the trials, which is so hard, but, wow, was I happy for a little break! And, yes, I’m a comma girl.

So, I packed up all my sad, anxious thoughts sand put them in a Drop-Dead-Fred box, and prepared to head South. 

Of course, a few days before we flew, the terrible Potomac crash happened. I’m already a nervous flier, but this amped up those feelings, in addition to the overwhelming feelings of the tragedy of it all. Then the Pennsylvania crash happened. Terrible and Sad. Then there was another crash. Anxiety. What was also so somber feeling, is that we have peripheral connections to the community of the people involved in the crashes (and recovery efforts), especially the Potomac one. Passing the area where the recovery operations were set up was sobering, and from the airport we could see the crews, with their equipment, working out on the water.

When we finally took off, I was sobbing in my seat. It wasn’t from the fear or the anxiety, though. I could actually feel the heaviness and sorrow from the site on the Potomac. Being an empath is hard. Sometimes, these overwhelming feelings surprise me. Prayers.

Landing in Ft. Lauderdale was surreal. It was around 45 degrees when we left DC, and it was sunny and 76 degrees when we landed. Making sure the Drop-Dead-Fred box was secure on the shelf, I set out to seek active relaxation (so not good at that), continued recovery (nurses are the worst patients ever), and good old reflection and rest. 

It’s a work in progress. Trying to come to grip with the reality that one of my children is suffering greatly, and she blames me, and coming to terms with not being able to fix some things, is devastatingly, overwhelmingly painful. I know that it is not all me, and I know she is casting blame, and I know God loves her more than even I do, but… It is hard to be in this space. 

Along those lines, there is something about physically being in a different location to control-alt-delete. This trip was not about living it up in sunny Florida. This trip was a pause. A take a breath. A recharge (like, literally, I solar-paneled recharge). A long talk with Jesus.

It was good.

I know it is going to get worse before it gets better, and I am so not looking forward to it. However, as always, I do have my faith. And I don’t quit. 

Still…. I realize

Once again, I am looking to the hills, where my Help comes from, the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and Earth. I desperately am reminding myself of who I am, Whose I am, and Who loves me. I am drawn closest to God when I am hurting. I feel His presence most acutely when I am clinging desperately to His promises.

It’s been a ride, people. I swear, every year comes and goes and I think, “Geesh! Well, that was crazy!”

This year has been that and so much more. I have spent the greater part of today writing and publishing a pretty detailed, very painful, very private post about the last few months of this year and how they have impacted me. Then, in talking about said post with Mr. Mark, in which he (very rightly) pointed out how some of that information is nobody’s business, and what did I have to gain by putting “out there” on the internet for “everyone”? Needless to say, I took it down. My angsty mind and hurt, angry emotions were very much on board with “it’s my business, and whomever else has heard about it from other sources’ needs to hear about it from my point of view, and  if one is going to act a fool, and play me ass a fool even unwittingly, one may as well get the whole damn truth out there…”

Alas. here we are. Just know that when you get hurt by those whom you love the most, God still calls you to be His and act accordingly. No matter how hard that may be, I think it falls under the love your neighbor (your children, your family, your spouse) rule. Plus, acting out says something about your character. Good or bad. 

So, here is a little tidbit about mine:

Those of you who know me,  KNOW that I love fiercely. I am all in. One thousand percent. I have raised my family this way- with all the fierce love. I have made sure every one of my kids knows that they are loved fiercely. My friends know I love them fiercely, too. So, can I tell you exactly how I am so crushed and that I take it so personally when I am accused of anything less? Well, it sucks, for one. It hurts unbelievably to me that someone close to me could possibly fathom that I would not move mountains for them in a second if that is what is required for the situation. But, that is neither here nor there, apparently, because someone has forgotten who she is, Whose she is, and Who loves her (and I’m not talking about me, here).

Lesson of the year:

To be clear:

Remember who you are.

Remember Whose you are.

Remember Who loves you.