Tragedy

After my own challenging youth followed by years of walking with dozens of other youths and their families through their enormous challenges, more personal drama and now accepting the fact that my husband has a dangerous job that keeps him far away for large chunks of time, I'm finding I don't react to news of tragedy like I used to.  Like a normal person does.  There's very little that can devastate me at this point, or make me feel a sense of personal loss.  I prefer to think it's because I'm growing fearless, rather than numb.  


If it were numbness, then I suppose I wouldn't feel this sense of compassion and grace for those who are afraid and grieving.  But the catch is that I have to realize how serious things are and convey that I know this, instead of coming across as flippant or detached.  The serene look on my face when you tell me that the next door neighbor died does not mean I am detached.  It means I know that he was very old and did a lot more surviving than dying.  

About Courage

Courage is not fluffy.  I'm learning that if you choose to have courage in life,  you will find yourself in situations that are truly shitty.  Perhaps the things you dreaded, the worst case scenario, will come true.  But when you get to that point, you may realize that your cells stay intact, the involuntary nature of breathing is in your favor and there is more light than you imagined there would be when you thought it would be all that bad.  This is when you find yourself in a dance with the devastation of failure and the awareness of being completely alive.  You're caught off guard by the beautiful moments you never saw coming, filled with people and things you never knew you could love.   Eventually, what you hoped courage would lead you to, your dreams, find their way to you, all at once or trickling down in droplets, and you meet yourself.  The fully You who no longer pretends.  No longer needs to.    

She Was Alive.

When the iPhone struck midnight, they all raised their glasses up, down, in, out and chug!  They had created together, accomplished together, and now they celebrated together, their project and her birthday.

He wouldn't tell her what the shot was, this mystery Birthday shot.  He didn't have to.  He was a true character in her life, one whom she once believed to be her nemesis, since, grown to see him as a trustworthy friend.  Someone who could buy her, Little Miss Lightweight, a Birthday shot, not tell her what it was and she'd down it.

She did.  Or tried to, anyway.  Turns out it was Jamison.  She drank it in three tries, spilling maybe a quarter of it all over the place as they all sang her Happy Birthday.  Next thing she would know, she and the room would be spinning together as another friend twirled her around, leading her in dance.  Then, the next thing after that would be that she... that all of them... were dancing on the table tops.

If It Be Your Will

Last month, a friend posted a clip on facebook from the Leonard Cohen documentary "I'm Your Man".  Antony is singing this song, "If It Be Your Will".  I'd never heard it before, but I've heard it so many times since.  I don't like it as much when Leonard Cohen sings it himself, but this version that Antony sings causes something inside me to look up as if someone has called it by name.  Like roll call in the classroom of a favorite teacher, my soul responds, "Here."

If it be your will 
That I speak no more 
And my voice be still 
As it was before 
I will speak no more 
I shall abide until 
I am spoken for 
If it be your will 

If it be your will 
That a voice be true 
From this broken hill 
I will sing to you 
From this broken hill 
All your praises they shall ring 
If it be your will 
To let me sing 
From this broken hill 
All your praises they shall ring 
If it be your will 
To let me sing 

If it be your will 
If there is a choice 
Let the rivers fill 
Let the hills rejoice 
Let your mercy spill 
On all these burning hearts in hell 
If it be your will 
To make us well 

And draw us near 
And bind us tight 
All your children here 
In their rags of light 
In our rags of light 
All dressed to kill 
And end this night 
If it be your will 

If it be your will.  

New Digs

Getting situated in our new temporary set-up at Josh's parents' house.  We're in the bedroom that was his from age 13-18, only now its got our stuff in it.  Very cozy.  Bonding with the family dog, Grace, as our cat, Louie, explores the largest space he's ever had, a large 4 bedroom house on 2.5 acres.   I'm loving my new juicer, currently sipping on some spinach, beet, carrot and apple.  Getting ready to start a compost bin in the backyard.  This evening I plan to try the pole dancing aerobics class down the street, and next week, plant pansies in the garden.

...and go.

I've always had a thing for boats and water.  When I was a little girl, my dad lived on a houseboat on Lake Lanier in North Georgia.  Every other weekend, and two weeks out of the summer, that was my home.  The floating, gently swaying shelter rocked me to sleep.  The deep, dark, green-blue water was my backyard.  The fish, my mystery.  I felt loved and free there.  At first, when I was really young, I needed to have on a life jacket AND be held by a grown-up to feel safe in the water.  Then I grew into feeling safe enough with just my life jacket on, and eventually to feeling confident swimming without it.

When I was 18, during a particularly stressful, transitional, unfamiliar season in my life (my first months in Tulsa) I had a dream that still speaks to me when I remember it.  I was on the platform of a boat, undocked in the middle of the sea riding 20-30 ft waves, up-and-down, side-to-side, terrified.  The boat would plunge vertically, nose diving into the sea.   Water was crashing over the rails, and I could actually feel my stomach drop with the motion, like a roller coaster with no tracks.  My pulse was racing.  I thought I could die.  Then, in my panic, I suddenly remembered a certain story about a bunch of guys freaking out in the same situation, and I had this knowing.  Peaceful, courageous and higher than fear.

Different cultures have different words, stories and beliefs to describe spiritual light.  I am fascinated by light in all of its forms.  In my own experience thus far, I've known light through Jesus.  In that story about the guys freaking out, Jesus was asleep in the bottom of that boat.  Great story.  My sudden knowing was that Jesus was now asleep in the bottom of my own boat, and no boat would ever sink with Jesus sleeping on it.  No need to frantically wake him, like the disciples did.  I was safe.  The tempest became exciting.  The boat was still nose diving, my stomach was still dropping with the motion, but now it was a blast!  Like a roller coaster with no tracks.

I'm here in another particularly stressful, transitional, unfamiliar season in my life.  Unfamiliar in circumstance, but not in feelings of fear, then hope and eventually courage and clarity.  Right now, I'm at hope.

"We've got to let go and ride the waves as they come," my husband says.  Very soon, he'll be a soldier in the US Army.  He leaves for basic training and AIT in one month and one day.  If I fear, he'll worry.  If he worries, I will fear.  No room for that now.  We are at the crest, the nose is starting to tilt downward, I'm  planting my feet, bending my knees and... the boat tilts, I lean back... the boat tilts, I lean back... stomach...