Marked Moments

Second basement bed staged for AirBnB 

Mitchell packed up his duffel bags and computer tower last night at midnight, loaded up his golden Grand Marquis and moved himself back to his college apartment. 

I asked him to clean and vacuum his room before he left, but I still found three bags of garbage and an assortment of dishes left behind. He was anxious to join his three new roommates, his old friends who are already all moved in. I don’t blame him at all, and just laughed as I took the first load upstairs. 

These moments often catch us by surprise, an inevitable and looked forward to reality, and then departure comes and regret sets in. Maybe there should have been more acknowledgment of the moment, more celebration, some thought that this could be the pivotal goodbye and hello to adulthood. 

He turned 21 not quite two months ago, but it’s difficult to pinpoint independence. He’ll probably come home again for his extended holiday because I buy the groceries here and he has free reign of the fridge. But nothing is for sure and we just don’t know. His independence is there and the free food is here and sometimes adults still want their mom. 

I was teary when I caught him downstairs mid packing. He asked if I was ok. I said simply I didn’t want to miss marking an important moment and we hugged. He’s not been a hugger but he held me for a long time. 

I told his neck I’m glad he’s leaving and happy with where he’s going and we’ll all be ok. I’m letting go and celebrating my free reign of the basement. We each win our own freedom in his leaving. He wipes a few tears too and then I grabbed a couple dishes and headed upstairs. I’ve got guests booked for the space and preparations to complete but the empty feeling in the house will linger for a while.

Story Arc

My house got a facelift!

When I was a child our family read missionary biography after Christian hero biography after epic faith story. Each was a true tale of faith giants choosing hard paths, forgiving the unforgivable, and walking with integrity the road of an extreme love for the gospel of Jesus and the work of Christ. 

I was drawn to these stories and soon began to realize I could respond to life’s trials like they did before me, with a faith that moved the mountains of fear, resentment and selfish safety. 

My life seemed mundane but I was being tried in the fires of motherhood, marriage and church community. It was good and it was hard, and I did nothing well except persevere.

Inevitably, I soon faced the larger questions of who I was, and who I was going to be. I walk this road of life with friends and counselors by my side, faithful and Spirit filled women, with knowledge of boundaries to help keep me safe and a heart planted in Matthew 5 and Luke 6. 

Do not resist an evil person, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you. Bless those who curse you, pray for those who persecute you. Then your reward will be great and you will be children of the MostHigh, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Be merciful just as your Father is merciful. 

There are a lot of scriptures that could guide my way these days but I’ve landed here for years. I consider the body of scripture, Old and New, all the stories of a God who pursues relationship with a repeatedly forgetful and rebellious people.   

Hosea comes to mind, and David refusing to exact revenge, leaving his enemies alive to pursue him in the caves and wilderness another day. Jesus ate with sinners and rebuked the rule following Pharisees, washed Judas’ feet. He saw past behaviors to hearts. His purposes extended past perceptions. This is the love of Christ that compels me and the heart posture that guides me. 

The fruit of harsh judgements, angry limitations, hard hearts and resentful posturing only ever leads to withering branches drying on the vine. I have never seen this response bring about the fruit of the Holy Spirit in either the exactor of the judgement or in the life of the judged. I trust God to do his work of righting wrongs, bringing justice, inviting repentance. 

When I read the New Testament I cast off old tendencies toward Pharisee-ism and hear the heart of Jesus encourage me to chose a bigger storyline, absent of penal justifications, but full of ridiculous grace and love.

How often do we as the people of God forget our primary calling to love? It sounds so elementary as to be diminished and mocked by some camps. Love is not enough. It’s too easy. 

But no.

It’s not easy.

Not the kind of spirit led, self sacrificing, enemy-loving LOVE. 

I hope someday it is said about me that I threw caution to the wind, but the wind was the Holy Spirit and He carried me.

That is the BIG epic story I want my life to emulate. A heart that remains soft to both those who have hurt me and to my God. That is the faith that moves my mountains and the story arc I want to be written someday for others to read. 

Morning Light

Morning light. I miss having coffee here every morning with my best friend. Today marks one year since he came home from a Christian men’s retreat where he asked a question and got the answer he’d been waiting to hear. Some brand new friends told him him it would be worth it, so he came home and told me our marriage was over. 

Of course it’s not as simple as that, and the journey was long to that point, but after all we’d worked through, it still came out of nowhere. We had hopes and dreams together that we had worked toward for 20 years. I thought we had enough love and friendship and commitment that we would be “together forever.” Today marks the day we began unraveling our cord of three strands. 

One year is long and it is short. I don’t wish to go back and I’m glad I never have to relive a summer of keeping secrets in my own house, weeping in the shower, in the bed still next to him or fearing the impending exit of my life partner.  

Technically all wasn’t final for 7 months but he was gone in 3. 

I’ve learned a lot this year. 

Divorce is stupid. 

But I learned I’m strong enough to endure and thrive through my biggest fears. My faith stands because my God is faithful. 

I cannot take credit for the joy that endures.  It comes natural to my personality type. I am a relentless optimist and stubborn in hope. The Word has not only been planted in me to save me (James 1), but has taken root so that my views of the world and my God and myself are not swayed by pain or discomfort or the unfairness of life. 

It’s been a year. And though we don’t share coffee daily, and there were weeks and months of tense communication, we’ve settled into a new normal of acceptance. We talked last night for an hour about my house projects and our kids. I’m getting my house painted and his work history includes painting and managing a paint store so I ran the bids by him and got his advice. He was helpful and I was happy to have his help. 

We may be divorced and our lives disconnected in a growing number of ways, but I suppose it is true in some sense that we will always be linked “together forever”. Divorce does not erase history or memories and our kids are the tie that keep us connected. 

The next step in my house painting project includes choosing a paint color. I lay the color fan out on the coffee table in the light and think about what a fresh coat of color will do to my home. The home I am making my own day by day and repair project by project. I take care of myself while I take care of my home. 

The light changes as the sun rises, my mocha mug is empty, and a new day has begun. 

After a quiet winter

The spring sun warms as birds chirp and the hum of a vacuum faintly disturbs the sounds of nature around me. An early lawnmower from a nearby neighbor adds to the soundtrack of spring. 

I’m content in my favorite season. 

I hired a carpet cleaner today, ordered a few things on Amazon and should have packages arriving a few days this week. Some would call this retail therapy, in a season when other forms of shopping and social joy have been removed, but for me, this shopping is different.

In the past I lived with a scarcity mentality. I differentiate between a love of thrifting and hunting for treasures and the feeling of hesitation at ordering things I need or want to live comfortably. These are two different things. 

With a comfortable savings growing, I am beginning to allow myself the freedom to buy what I want, to live guilt free, as I find financial freedom. This is both the freedom to save and the freedom to spend. There is a supreme contentedness in the feeling of being able to provide for my own needs and the needs of my kids, to thrive at supporting a rather large home and multiple businesses. 

I have never been independent in this way, and find it intriguing that I have less fear, more confidence, more trust in a God who delights in taking good care of me. 

I do not embrace a prosperity gospel, but I do believe God places and removes blessing and I can’t help but feel this season of stability in the midst of a world crisis is a purposeful gift to me. 

I feel like He’s saying,

“Girl, I see you. I have counted your tears this year, I have seen your trauma and you get to sit this one out.” 

I work hard to be sure. Projects are a joy and when there’s a need for masks I make them and earn a bit more. I spend a little more on Fair trade and take-out to support those who need. I give a little extra because I can. 

I don’t pretend to know why some struggle and some are shielded from it. No doubt we all take turns in the valley and mountain top. 

Both have their gifts for us. The view is fantastic from the top. But the running water and the wildlife are found in the valley. 

I can still hear the birds causing a ruckus from my perch on my deck. The vacuum has stilled and my carpets are clean. I order one more thing before paying the carpet cleaner. A comfy new outdoor couch for my whole family to enjoy. 

Spring is here and I want to be ready to live in the sun.