Not a New Revelation, Just One I Finally "Get" (for now)

I'm just going to ignored that I haven't blogged in almost two years and skip over the promise that I'm actually going to try to keep up with it this time. I just have something to share that's longer than a status update....

As many of you already know, I usually try to avoid situations and conversations that make me feel uncomfortable. Sharing my faith and inviting people to church falls in that category. Well, last Sunday, Sam (my pastor), told us the postcards inside our bulletins were not for us, they were to give to a friend. I said a quick prayer asking for God's direction in this, decided to throw it on a table in the break room at work and completely forgot about it.

As usual, the day before a holiday weekend, people we're a little more chatty at work. A friend of mine stopped me to talk and asked if I had fancy dresses picked out for the girls for Easter. Ugh. Easter dresses?! I was negotiating the purchase of my house all week! Who had time to think about Easter dresses?! Opps!

I confessed I hadn't even thought about it and said, "Thankfully, I go to a church that doesn't expect that kind of thing. I'm sure they have something in their closet that will look nice." This turned the conversation to her own recent experience with churchs and when she made the statement that she was looking for a church that was more racially diverse, I said, "My church is kinda like that." She asked a few more questions and said she'd like to come visit sometime.

At break time, I ran out to the van to grab the postcard and gave it to my friend. No pressure, nothing uncomfortable, just a simple "Here's the address and service times." Then we talked about food.

It's such a simple story, but it excited me. Who knows if she'll ever show up. I don't think you can even call it "growing" moment for me. No big fears were conquered. They're all still there. I know I didn't really DO anything at all.

It just makes me wonder if we ever do. If it could be so easy. Why do we make it so difficult?

Frustration.

I don't rant and/or complain very often, but this has been building and right now I feel like I'm going to explode.

I am so tired of people asking me "WHY?" , "Why would your dad do such a thing?", "Why did he do it that way?", "Why didn't he ask for help?", "Why did he feel that way?", "Why did he do this and why didn't he do that??" Let me answer you with: WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME?!?!?! I DON'T KNOW!

And here's another one for you: I don't care. Call me cold or heartless. -I don't care about that either. Maybe I'm even a little selfish. I don't care who "just can't believe it" or who "just doesn't understand". None of that really matters. It's really simple: My dad is dead and I miss him. Period. And it doesn't matter if he died of a heart attack, was terminally ill, in a car accident or was murdered or whatever. The shock is gone and my time of questioning has passed. I just miss him now. I want to remember his LIFE. I don't want to relive his death OVER and OVER and OVER again.

If anyone wants to continue to travel down that dead end road, be my guest. I am not going with you. I'm not going to be super-polite about it anymore either. I'm done comforting other people. Sorry.

If you haven't noticed, life doesn't always go the way we want it to. We're not in control. We're not supposed to know everything or understand everything.

I'm 30 years old and I have no parents. What am I supposed to say?? I'm sorry that I'm not acting like you think I should. I'm sorry that I don't handle things the same way as this person or that person. Maybe I'm not normal. Exactly how long am I supposed to sit around miserable? How long am I supposed to wallow in the same exhausting feelings?

I. LOVE. MY. LIFE. Ya wanna know my secret?? -Do what you can today and keep moving forward. Need directions? Ask God.

I feel the need to speak for my father.

The circumstances of Dad's death make it difficult to process. I don't know that you can rate these sorts of things, but the process portion of Mom's death was easier. You could take a snapshot of any portion of her life and see God's plan. Everyone watched her struggles, everyone saw her fight. Dad's fight was not so obvious.

It's easy to pass judgment. It's so much simpler to think he was a depressed man, wallowing in self-pity who committed a selfish and cowardly act. Those thoughts fit in a neat little box of anger that can be stored away in for eternity. But that wasn't the case at all. Life doesn't always fit in a neat little box.

Dad was not depressed. Throughout his entire life I cannot recall a moment he felt sorry for himself. He was a hard worker. I can remember times in his life when he had been laid off or the company he was working for had shut down. He never sat around collecting unemployment. He always found work and provided for us. Dad was not selfish. He loved his family and his friends very much and did what he could when we were in need.

But he was a coward. He was afraid of being a burden. He was afraid of his troubles effecting the lives of my brother and me. He was afraid. He had been strong his entire life and never learned how to be weak. He was afraid of becoming something else. He loved us so much and he knew that we loved him. He knew we'd be there for him no matter what. That's what he was afraid of.

It doesn't make it right. It doesn't make it okay. My dad was a very intelligent man, but this time he was wrong. I don't agree with him and I don't condone his actions.

As hard as this is to say: I understand. Not with my own mind, but knowing his. He was acting out of love for us and did what he believed was best for his family and his friends. He made his wishes clear and took comfort in knowing that PJ and I had wonderful lives.

I thank The Lord for giving me a dad that I will miss so much.

Someone Dropped a Pebble in the Pond

I didn't participate in the Relay for Life last year because it just felt like it was "too soon." (For those who don't know the Relay for Life is an 18 hour walking relay to raise money for the fight against Cancer.) It wasn't yet a year since mom had passed and though I popped in for a couple of hours, I avoided being there for the Survivor's Lap.

This year, I signed up to walk. I HATE fund raising. HATE it. But I do believe in this cause, so it makes it a little easier. I feel as if I'm bothering people, but I guess if annoying people saves someone's mom, then let the people be annoyed. :)

But I expected these feelings. I expected to miss my mom. I DIDN'T expect to be scared. I didn't expect to find that Ovarian Cancer runs so strongly in my family. My great-grandmother, my grandmother, my grandmother's sister and my mother all had Ovarian Cancer. Needless to say, this news leaves me a little shaken.

So I've cried, I've prayed, I've called Ben... now I'm blogging, so I'm okay. I'm not sure if this something I wanted to know. But I can't unread it, so it is what it is. I live a pretty healthy lifestyle, so the rest is out of my hands.

This is where I remember that no one has a long-life guarantee. This is where I'm supposed to tell myself to "live each day like it's my last" and "don't leave things unsaid" and the million other "seize the day" cliches.

...but I don't have to. Because this is when I realize that I already do. THAT is a wonderful feeling. That's the kind of feeling that trumps all fear of cancer and death. I love who I am. I love my life. My head may plan for the future, but my heart lives in the today.

Like I said, it's all out of my hands. My life is in God's hands, and that's a much better place to be.

Parental High

Every once in awhile, there are moments when I feel like I'm doing this parenting thing right. Today, I had one of those moments. For the first time in over a year, I helped the girls clean their room.
They usually do it themselves. They usually fight while they do. Then usually I yell, "STOP FIGHTING!" Then they somehow figure out who's going to do what and it gets mostly cleaned.

Today, when I started cleaning the room without saying a word to them, Cami seemed bothered. (We'll leave Abby out of this blog.) She came in the room and started tossing things from her toy box(es) into the Goodwill bag. I guess she was smart enough to realize that toys were going to go and she wanted to have a say in which ones. She did SUCH a good job getting rid of things. What was FOUR containers of Barbie items is now ONE. The entire room took us more than four hours and she was a hard little worker the whole time. While we were finishing up she gave me a big hug and very sincerely said, "Thank you so much for helping us clean our room, especially the Barbie stuff, it was so overloading me." It was a proud parent moment. Not only did she appreciate my help but she recognized that it was HER job, HER responsibility.

Still on my high, I tackled the yard. Blake volunteered to be my helper. I cut down the thorn bush behind the shed and he put the branches in the can. He picked up the sticks, I mowed the grass. No complaints and no tears, not even when one of the thorns was big enough to poke through his gloves and draw blood.

Maybe I'm not screwing these kids up. :) They DO know how to work hard. As for Abby... well, God made her extremely BOOK SMART. She's sure to find a career that makes her rich enough to hire people to do the manual labor for her.

Welcome to my blog

I finally decided on a name for my blog. It just came to me moments ago. There really isn't any story behind it, just something I say fairly often.

I'm still not sure what the specific topic of this blog will be. It may not even have one. We'll just have to wait and see...