Nuggets,
Divorce is one of the ugliest words in the world. It is hideous, gruesome, devastating. It has a thousand different horrible life lessons about hurt and abandonment and you're-not-good-enough (or I'm-not-good-enough) realities. It's a word that destroys everything in its path. It leaves no joy, no excitement, no happiness. Sure, some people pretend like life is all beautiful in the midst of its journey, but pretending is a powerful tool. It helps us to cope. It's called denial, and it ain't just a river in Egypt.
The conversation turned to this awful word yesterday, when you popped up from your book. You were talking about Julie and Nancy, best friends who were being separated because Julie's parents were divorced and now Julie was moving away. (side note: I love how you dive in to books and speak of the characters like they are real people. I love how passionate you become about their feelings, issues, hurts, and joys. I love your imagination.) You asked me if Daddy and I would ever get divorced, and then you talked about how much that would hurt.
I think it's naive for grown ups to promise their children that they will never get divorced. I can't magically view the future, or speak to the actions of another person (though I have the utmost belief that it won't happen), when I am only responsible for my own. I can't promise that something hideous and ugly will never occur in the course of our lives. But I can say what has already happened, what we've already walked through, and survived. I can say that I believe in the power of healing and hope and restoration. I can say that Daddy and I have walked through the shadow of the valley of death, the most hideous of marital hurts, fought it, and lived through it. I can say that we love each other more now, than we did then. Crazy thought, isn't it?
I can say that Love is hard. Not because of the other person, but because of myself. It is hard to give of myself, expecting nothing in return, and bearing no resentments. It is hard to put the wants and needs of another person ahead of my own. It is hard to trust that they are doing the same for me. It is hard to expose the weaknesses in myself, talk about them, and to burn out the dross of my soul. It is tough to see how selfish and evil I really am, while I do my absolute best to love your Daddy. Love is a mirror. It's the clearest way to see who I really am, and not who I pretend to be. Love forced me to experience my sinful-self-denial and do something about it. Otherwise I don't really love.
I can say that I bear the scars of a set of divorced parents. Daddy does too. I can say that as young as I was, I was harmed. I can say that the lesson of the option to abandon Love has permanently changed the way I view it. I can say that as hard as I work to trust in and believe, am vulnerable and fragile with your Daddy, a deep dark part of my heart fears that he will one day decide that I'm not worth it anymore and abandon me. I know that Daddy experiences this same fear. We carry this weight, often times unaware, and we work to superglue-cement our feet in place, to be resolute in not having the option of abandonment. We work hard to show ourselves, and each other, that come what may, we are here for good.
I hope you never learn that Love can be abandoned, or that it comes with strings attached. I hope you grow up and understand that Love is about what you can give, and not what you get. I hope you always have the safety and comfort that your Daddy and I are as stubborn as hell, and we're not going to quit on each other. I hope that you will never forget to pray for us to always feel this way. I hope you will grow up to have this exact same reality in your own marriages: feet cemented, super glued, duct taped, wrapped up in seran wrap, welded together, and attached for good.
Monday, January 13, 2014
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Good Mornings
Nuggets,
I love you. I have no idea how this day is going to play itself out. I have no idea if we will be moving soon or living here forever. I have no idea if school will be easy peazy lemon squeezy or if it will be like scaling a rock face with nothing but our bare hands. I can't say if we're going to experience the most unimaginable heartache or the most astounding joy. I can't declare that no one will fight today, or that everyone will be only kind, caring, and considerate. I can't. I, unfortunately, do not have the gift of seeing the future. I'm thankful for that.
I hope that you will learn to enjoy the unknowns. I have moments myself, where I hate it. I have periods where the dark realms of an unlighted path have shaken me to my core. When Bruni's kidneys stopped working, when Grigio's lungs stopped breathing, when Charchee's fever wouldn't come down, when Lolli's bone marrow freaked out, when Daddy deployed... I felt like my entire being was broken into a thousand pieces. I felt like my sense of composure wilted away. I remember screaming in to the phone (at Grandma) that God couldn't do this to me. I remember being curled up in the fetal position feeling utterly devastated. I also remember seeing your tiny, broken, fragile bodies overcoming. I remember standing there as Daddy walked off the airplane and he was home. I remember the moments when those devastations ended. I remember when healing began.
What I can tell you, what I can promise you, is that I will love you every single moment of this day. I can declare that this entire day will have that singular fact flowing throughout all of it. I can assure you that my love will not faulter, or change, or diminish based on whether or not you are a school superstar, or you are feeling sad and frustrated. I can announce with full certainty that I will still love you, even if you make the worst choices ever.
Though the path of this day is unknown to us, I look forward to walking through it with you. I look forward to this renewed opportunity to show you grace, a passion to learn, and the ability to overcome. I look forward to helping you to understand that frustrations are good, and not to be avoided. I will enjoy showing you how to love others in a greater capacity than you did yesterday. I can't wait to see you discover new things today.
But always, no matter what, I love you. Come rain or come shine.
I love you. I have no idea how this day is going to play itself out. I have no idea if we will be moving soon or living here forever. I have no idea if school will be easy peazy lemon squeezy or if it will be like scaling a rock face with nothing but our bare hands. I can't say if we're going to experience the most unimaginable heartache or the most astounding joy. I can't declare that no one will fight today, or that everyone will be only kind, caring, and considerate. I can't. I, unfortunately, do not have the gift of seeing the future. I'm thankful for that.
I hope that you will learn to enjoy the unknowns. I have moments myself, where I hate it. I have periods where the dark realms of an unlighted path have shaken me to my core. When Bruni's kidneys stopped working, when Grigio's lungs stopped breathing, when Charchee's fever wouldn't come down, when Lolli's bone marrow freaked out, when Daddy deployed... I felt like my entire being was broken into a thousand pieces. I felt like my sense of composure wilted away. I remember screaming in to the phone (at Grandma) that God couldn't do this to me. I remember being curled up in the fetal position feeling utterly devastated. I also remember seeing your tiny, broken, fragile bodies overcoming. I remember standing there as Daddy walked off the airplane and he was home. I remember the moments when those devastations ended. I remember when healing began.
What I can tell you, what I can promise you, is that I will love you every single moment of this day. I can declare that this entire day will have that singular fact flowing throughout all of it. I can assure you that my love will not faulter, or change, or diminish based on whether or not you are a school superstar, or you are feeling sad and frustrated. I can announce with full certainty that I will still love you, even if you make the worst choices ever.
Though the path of this day is unknown to us, I look forward to walking through it with you. I look forward to this renewed opportunity to show you grace, a passion to learn, and the ability to overcome. I look forward to helping you to understand that frustrations are good, and not to be avoided. I will enjoy showing you how to love others in a greater capacity than you did yesterday. I can't wait to see you discover new things today.
But always, no matter what, I love you. Come rain or come shine.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Circus Dogs
America,
I would like to introduce you to the veterinarian nuisance. His name is Gus. He's become the black sheep of our animal family. He's the naughtiest, most troublesome, neurotic, overbearingly ridiculous four legged creature I have ever loved.
Today we took Gus in for his annual exam/shots/doctoring. We didn't even make it out of the van, before the images of Marley and Me started flooding through my brain. The dog was about to pass out from pulling so frickin hard against the leash that I think he nearly suffocated himself. The hyperventilating was real, and it wasn't all mine.
Now I pride myself on my abilities to train, equip, and handle dogs. Gus is good on a leash. I walk him all the time with no troubles. The problem with Gus is he's smart. Too smart. He forgets nothing.
He used to be great at the vet! He was calm, cool, collected. He'd mosey on in with me, and hang out quietly in the waiting room. Sure he would struggle when he wanted to greet someone or play, but what dogs don't do that? It all changed when we let them take away his cojones. From that moment, he has viewed veterinarians as the foundations of hell, and he hates them. No, he abhors them. I promise you, America, he remembers what they did to him!
You know those times when you've been to the vet and sat there listening to a dog scream bloody murder and thought to yourself Geez, I wish those people would get control of that dang dog!? You know you've had that experience. Don't lie to yourself or to me, America. It's not nice. I will confess that I used to do that all the time. I'd sit there with Jake and think Thank God I know how to control my dogs... That's pride. Jesus hates pride. Hence why he gave me a circus dog, with freak intellectual abilities. Now I am the person, sitting in the vet, being judged. We literally had someone say today What the HECK is the matter with that dog???? Oh my gosh!!!!!! Someone else said What happened to him that makes him act like this?! I said What happened? He got neutered. And he remembers it. He hates these people.
We were ushered in to a room relatively quickly. I think they understand that my dog is about to have a complete nervous breakdown (as opposed to a partial nervous breakdown. Stop laughing America. Breakdowns are no joke. Shame on you) and they try to help. In the room, the tech says Um... he is labelled a "caution" dog. So we need to put a muzzle on him. I lowered my head in shame, turned to Gus and said Do you see what you've done??? You've brought shame to the family! Indecente!
Gus does not like for vet's to touch his genitals or his booty. He has decided that his sex organs are off limits to medical personnel. Maybe he's listened in too much on my talks with the kids about perverts, and he's absorbed the information. Maybe in his genius brain, I am pinning him down to let some sicko molest him. I have no idea.
Now Gus is not all flaws. This dog has been taught to put a tennis ball in your hand and place items in your lap. He can open doors and knows unique words that are not common to dogs. He passionately loves music, but is selective about the type that he likes. He seriously has a music taste. You know how I know this? Because he dances. That's right America. Gus dances. Did I teach him that? Nope. He just did it. And he'll only dance to a certain type of music. He is insanely in tune with my emotional state. If I am ever so slightly agitated or frustrated or sad, he'll start doing random hilarious things to make me laugh. One time I was feeling frustrated and he took his toy in his mouth and started trying to do a side flip, sort of like how dolphins jump up and over to their side. He continued the action until I laughed. He is the smartest dog I've ever known. Every command he's ever been taught has usually taken 1-3 times of showing it to him and then he's got it down solid. He learned sit in two tries, when he was 7 weeks old. No. joke.
But you know how annoying it is when you're at the vet listening to some dog sing the "song" of his people? You know when you think your eardrums have burst from that irritating dog that just won't shut up and you think you're going to lose your mind? That's probably Gus, America. It's probably him mourning the loss of his testicles, and singing to the world about the misery of it. I apologize.
I would like to introduce you to the veterinarian nuisance. His name is Gus. He's become the black sheep of our animal family. He's the naughtiest, most troublesome, neurotic, overbearingly ridiculous four legged creature I have ever loved.
Today we took Gus in for his annual exam/shots/doctoring. We didn't even make it out of the van, before the images of Marley and Me started flooding through my brain. The dog was about to pass out from pulling so frickin hard against the leash that I think he nearly suffocated himself. The hyperventilating was real, and it wasn't all mine.
Now I pride myself on my abilities to train, equip, and handle dogs. Gus is good on a leash. I walk him all the time with no troubles. The problem with Gus is he's smart. Too smart. He forgets nothing.
He used to be great at the vet! He was calm, cool, collected. He'd mosey on in with me, and hang out quietly in the waiting room. Sure he would struggle when he wanted to greet someone or play, but what dogs don't do that? It all changed when we let them take away his cojones. From that moment, he has viewed veterinarians as the foundations of hell, and he hates them. No, he abhors them. I promise you, America, he remembers what they did to him!
You know those times when you've been to the vet and sat there listening to a dog scream bloody murder and thought to yourself Geez, I wish those people would get control of that dang dog!? You know you've had that experience. Don't lie to yourself or to me, America. It's not nice. I will confess that I used to do that all the time. I'd sit there with Jake and think Thank God I know how to control my dogs... That's pride. Jesus hates pride. Hence why he gave me a circus dog, with freak intellectual abilities. Now I am the person, sitting in the vet, being judged. We literally had someone say today What the HECK is the matter with that dog???? Oh my gosh!!!!!! Someone else said What happened to him that makes him act like this?! I said What happened? He got neutered. And he remembers it. He hates these people.
We were ushered in to a room relatively quickly. I think they understand that my dog is about to have a complete nervous breakdown (as opposed to a partial nervous breakdown. Stop laughing America. Breakdowns are no joke. Shame on you) and they try to help. In the room, the tech says Um... he is labelled a "caution" dog. So we need to put a muzzle on him. I lowered my head in shame, turned to Gus and said Do you see what you've done??? You've brought shame to the family! Indecente!
Gus does not like for vet's to touch his genitals or his booty. He has decided that his sex organs are off limits to medical personnel. Maybe he's listened in too much on my talks with the kids about perverts, and he's absorbed the information. Maybe in his genius brain, I am pinning him down to let some sicko molest him. I have no idea.
Now Gus is not all flaws. This dog has been taught to put a tennis ball in your hand and place items in your lap. He can open doors and knows unique words that are not common to dogs. He passionately loves music, but is selective about the type that he likes. He seriously has a music taste. You know how I know this? Because he dances. That's right America. Gus dances. Did I teach him that? Nope. He just did it. And he'll only dance to a certain type of music. He is insanely in tune with my emotional state. If I am ever so slightly agitated or frustrated or sad, he'll start doing random hilarious things to make me laugh. One time I was feeling frustrated and he took his toy in his mouth and started trying to do a side flip, sort of like how dolphins jump up and over to their side. He continued the action until I laughed. He is the smartest dog I've ever known. Every command he's ever been taught has usually taken 1-3 times of showing it to him and then he's got it down solid. He learned sit in two tries, when he was 7 weeks old. No. joke.
But you know how annoying it is when you're at the vet listening to some dog sing the "song" of his people? You know when you think your eardrums have burst from that irritating dog that just won't shut up and you think you're going to lose your mind? That's probably Gus, America. It's probably him mourning the loss of his testicles, and singing to the world about the misery of it. I apologize.
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