There have been times in my life when I was wrought with fear because I truly didn’t know the answer. What was right; the truth!
Maybe it was a relationship where I wasn’t sure. I became weary of people saying “you’ll just know.” I used to think “maybe YOU just knew. Maybe I just won’t! I’m different. I don’t have the same life as you.”
Maybe it was when someone you loved was in trouble and you wanted to help them but you could not figure out if your help was actually hurting them instead of helping.
A lot of times it’s easy to decipher the ‘right’ thing to do. And we may not actually choose the right thing…but at least we KNOW what it IS.
It’s the times where you really can’t figure out what is right. What is the next step? What do I do? What I thought I was going to do no longer feels right and I’m…
If we can get to a point where we admit we’re lost and need help…that’s huge.
I can let go of the grip
And fall back
Someone will catch me.
If I believe that, that’s trust.
It’s when I’m caught that I need to be grateful (grateful for being caught), brush myself off and do the work needed to get to the next step.
What is the next step?
Maybe this process repeats itself a few times. But each time, you end up learning something right; the right thing to do.
You know what is right. The way will be lit with lanterns.
key words: keep going, walk the darkness (pave), believe, trust, let go, fall, be caught, thank, work, lanterns
My feet are not deformed, but they’re weird. They’re definitely not pretty. I have bunions and then my middle toe kind of curls under. Bunions – even the word itself sounds ugly.
A friend of mine once asked while laying out…
“what happened to your middle toe? Is it cut off?”
An old dentist of mine said
“Wow, you have some funky toes.”
So I’ve hid them. I’ve had pedicures.
I’ve had coworkers comment on them and their weirdness “your toes are fuckin weird!” My husband tells me that I should be a foot model. (In love and humor haha)
You get the gist.
Yet, all this time…thinking I’ve hated my feet and even considered cosmetic surgery, I’ve realized (more acknowledged) that I love my feet. All along. All this time.
I love the way they feel in the sheets. And I do this thing where I rub them together before I fall asleep. I love how when I get cold they kind of feel smaller, and I go put some fuzzy socks on to warm them up.
I was doing some humble yoga, laying on my back with my legs extended in the air. I was looking up at my feet. In that moment, I felt whole and happy in my own skin.
I was staring at them thinking of all they’ve done; part of my body, that’s part of my soul that belongs and is one with a gracious God.
God gave me these feet.
Learning to love yourself (or realizing that you’ve loved yourself all along but have allowed outside influences to make that illusory) isn’t easy.
We think we are supposed to look a certain way, and when we don’t, that it’s shameful.
But it’s us. It’s you. It’s me. It’s just how we were made. BEAUTIFUL.
Like my feet. These amazing, familiar, high-functioning, slightly-deformed feet…they’re mine.
And I’m grateful.
I love him so much.
He has been this person in my life where all the things I wanted in a relationship (or thought I wanted) were dissolved and a new thing came about and started growing – one that I didn’t know I wanted; one that I didn’t know existed or was possible.
Sometimes it’s the very thing that brings me to my knees or makes me feel like I might punch something. But it’s the thing that when it’s not feeling solid or good…I can’t breathe. I feel like I might puke. I have to back down and do my part to make sure I’m meeting him halfway. Sometimes it physically hurts letting go of my stance. But our okayness is more important to me. Sometimes I need to go more than halfway to help him keep going and many times he has to go the further distance to hold me up for a spell.
He’s so strong. And warm. (Literally and not literally.) His love keeps me safe. I take refuge in it. Sometimes to the point where I forget my own strength and abilities and take advantage. He’s ok telling me to stop being a baby. He encourages me – because he believes in me. He reminds me of the very strength he fell in love with. Through his love and confidence in me, I am a better person. I persist in trying things I never thought I could do.
I have a mini scary place in my heart and mind that is full of fear and anxiety. It doesn’t always come out, but when it does it really sucks. Many people might not know this about me.
He knows because I trust him deeply and have told him everything. I’ve fought this place since I was a 9 year old girl. I had to overcome it as a single mom and independent woman. He met me shortly after this victory. When it rears its ugly head, he doesn’t give up on me, but helps me through, and with God and him by my side, the fear dissipates.
I will never stop believing in his love for me. Not just his love for our family, but his love for me. In my own fear, I have doubted him in the past, and for this I am regretful. Through his eyes, I’m able to see myself as a beautiful and capable woman and mother, friend and love. If only I could always see myself through his eyes, maybe I wouldn’t stumble so often at my own insecurities. I keep learning and trying, and I never give up.
I’m not perfect. Nor is he. But ten years ago we held hands in front of God and our loved ones and said we wouldn’t let go. I feel immense joy in my heart that no matter the hardships we experience as a family or the weaknesses we experience as individuals and in our relationship, that our vows stand stronger than ever.
Scottie, happy 10 year anniversary!
You will always be one with me in my soul.
It was end of winter at the park. I saw three women walking – heads down, hands in pockets of their jackets. They were walking briskly. I passed them a couple of times. They were good friends, that much I could tell. It was plainly clear that one of them was crying.
I was getting the stroller back into my trunk, and I unassumingly heard her say ,“I know.”, shaking her head.
They breezed by.
The poignant look on her face; the tears in her eyes. Her two friends -they were right there with her. In grief, fear, sadness, depression, anger, disbelief…it didn’t matter what it was, they were feeling it hard with their friend.
Maybe it was a feeling they had experienced themselves. And instead of going into a downward spiral with her, they knew their best role. The palpable pain – they would feel it with her, let her know it was ok for it to exist and remind her that she’ll eventually release it. In this, they’re carrying some of that burden and lightening the load on their friend’s shoulders. They’re gradually lifting her up.
Each time I saw them, it was only a glimpse, but what I witnessed in those fleeting moments was something I’m grateful to know well…the blessing of sisterhood.
Regardless of how much you love your partner or how close you are with your kids, there is nothing like that friend who just knows. You don’t even have to say anything. You just cry and she says “I know”, and you say “I know”, and you walk.
And you know she really, truly DOES KNOW. And there doesn’t have to be an explanation for your feelings or your behavior or your need to cry. And there doesn’t have to be a solution. What? There doesn’t have to be a solution. You put your hands in your pockets on that chilly day and walk.
For as long as I can remember my mom has cherished friendships with women that honored and exemplified sisterhood.
One group of friends, in particular, go back to high school. They went to an all-girl Catholic high school called Ursuline Academy, graduating class of 1971. They even formed their own singing group. Ironically, they called themselves “Old Friends” from the Simon and Garfunkel song. MaryJane (Maj), Mom (Norma), Nancy, Pam and MaryJo. Pam played guitar. Someone, somewhere has video of their singing. They were awesome! The picture below…that’s them! My mom is in the front on the left. Not awesome quality on the pic, but they were all gorgeous.
Every Christmas in the early 80’s as a little girl, I remember sneaking down the hallway to get a glimpse of them sharing wine and laughing. Their laughter!! They would laugh till they cried. Dad would sometimes be hanging out with them. I could never blame him.
They still get together, and they still honor one another. Their friendship as a group, and their individual relationships are something I’ve admired throughout the years.
Their love for one another even transcends politics! (Ha! Yes it does! I’ve seen it firsthand – and recently!)
Their love for one another transcends the frailty of life.
When I saw these three friends at the park, what can I say? It struck me. Like sometimes out of nowhere, you’re just walking along minding your own, and BAAMMM…get knocked over the head with something. It was like that.
These women today – they had each other. No matter the pain. They were ok admitting they needed something. And in one another were able to (maybe even temporarily) fill that need.
It struck me with gratitude.
That glimpse today caused me to think about all the times I’ve needed my friends or they’ve needed me. And how by being human and open and sharing our weaknesses with one another we were able to avoid traps of jealousy and incited competition and be nothing but a soft place to land and a warm safe-house for one another – no matter what.
All while loading my toddler into the car, my nose burned and tears dropped and I felt deep love and thankfulness for the women in my life and what they mean to me – what we mean to each other.
I love you girls, and you know who you are.
Some things really are that simple.
featured image credit: judasblack.tumblr.com