loss, and found.

There was that moment when my heart could either burst with emotion and passion or float away in the wind for lack of sustenance a heart needs. The words were building up inside of me. they took hold of of my spiritual being. they touched on every nerve as they pulsed through my veins. Yet they never made it out. never made it past the paper. partly the reason was the feeling of inadequacy. they seemed empty. worthless. unimportant. They became words that no one would see. words that no one would hear. words that were just not good enough.

Lately there have been many moments I've spent questioning. I came to the conclusion that being truly myself and moving forward was simply enough, even though the events that recently unfolded, greatly derailed me. threw me off track. brought me to my knees. So now, everything around me feels new, different, and undiscovered. I am spending hours traveling through a veil of sunshine and wandering in splashes of color. Breathing in the sweet aroma of beauty, of just feeling alive. 

 There is just so much that happens in a moment. in a day. in a life. Today I had to pull myself up by my boot-straps. I scrubbed the bathroom floor. I licked twenty eight envelopes closed - all delivering thank you cards. I bought a birthday gift and browsed the aisles of Target with my mom and sister. I had dinner with my family.

This is my life. It's nothing new. It's a gift and a blessing and many times it's straight-up hard.

What is new is the constant undertow. My thoughts have shifted in recent weeks. There are now  officially things from which I cannot hide. I've heard it said we do not have to go looking for our joy. I may even have said it myself. I thought in days past that I did not have to try so hard. I really did not have to search to find the answers when Faith was all there was to see. I understand every word. I see the kernels of truth. layered one upon another.

For me today, loss and life are linked at the elbows. together they found me. I looked loss in the face and found myself wanting to run red-rover between the two and make them join hands right smack in the middle. There was no choosing. Nothing to overlook. Don't we all want to share the loss when it finds us? What if it requires some soul searching? What if it really is too hard?

I used to love the theory that all I had to do was sit home and fluff up my throw pillows, wait for life to come to me. Let me be clear, I don't think I need to attend grieve counseling classes in a church basement on the bad side of town. I don't need to search so hard that I contrive something uninspired. But search I must. My heart needs to scan the horizon every. single. day. looking for the things I have lost. the things that need me to go to them.

We've discussed my recent loss. maybe until we're all blue in the face. But here's one of the things it's teaching me, grief is not community service. It's not signing up to serve soup to the homeless then checking it off the list and resuming regular life. grief is a heart condition. It's loving someone for exactly who they were. always. forever. and then back again. even if I did happen to be in "regular life" mode when they disappeared from my life, even if it was not convenient and I was not in the mood.

Man, I liked it better when I thought I could pencil it onto my calendar. I could prepare myself then. I could put on my "grieving" britches and greet every single heartache with a smile and a cup of tea. I could do a little good then go on home to fluff with a clean conscience and a small, lingering sadness for the sad faces that smiled up at me earlier in the day.

Darlin', I'm not even close to half-way there. It scares me. It makes me jittery to know this in my head before it has settled into my heart. I like to compartmentalize. I'm really good at it. I appreciate the conveniences of a well-planned life. I'm not so great at surprises. especially bad ones.

The strings that bind me to this place, this time, is growing thinner. Things feel different, everywhere. My walking route, the park, my favorite restaurants, farmers market, even my house. It’s as if my mind has begun the emotional preparations for a new normal by disassociating from the old. More frequently now I find myself caught in the ordinary moments with a feeling of being there, but not really there in the ways I once was. I drive past the places I lost myself, the places I really found myself.  I see the younger versions, and the memories made in our relentless itch for love and moving on. Everywhere there is a mixture of light and dark, joy and pain, laughter and tears. It feels sorta supernatural. Hard to describe really. Staring at the sky this morning I felt an extraordinary sense of gratitude for the time, for the place — for all that it gave, for all that it took away. Two weeks have come and gone. I’m a different person now. I hope a better one. And it’s time. Time to let a new season teach me more about myself, more about life. about love.
Though, I miss you.

It seems like a start.
Strawberry Basil Scones 
(go here for recipe)


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