Connection.

I'm currently sitting on my couch... watching Grace and Frankie.

Dan and I started watching it several months ago, and then we never got past the second episode.  It didn't "hook" us like we were hoping.  All of the reviews and hype just didn't click.

Until....

Some time recently I decided to give it another shot.

Something was different.

It clicked.

And it was because I knew it was something my Mom would have enjoyed.

Maybe it was because of 2/3 of "9 to 5" actresses were showing the world that their heyday wasn't over.  Maybe it was because I knew she would cringe and laugh with every moment that they were bashing their exes.  Or maybe the time was just right.

I've recently entered a new phase of looking for- longing for- connection.  Finding something that would bring my Mom... or my Daddy... or Michael, joy.  I enjoyed the BNL concert even more than usual... because of the company, the beer, the music- all because I knew Michael loved each of those things.  I enjoyed buying a new grill because I knew Daddy would want to buy it for us- he actually bought our previous one.  I enjoy wearing earrings of my Mom's because- while she would still be frustrated that I had been in her jewelry box- I long for the connection they bring.

I think this is a normal part of grief.  I think I'm actually in a healthier spot these days- trying to connect with those I've lost.  I feel more like "myself" than I've been in the last 5 years.  It feels good.

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I haven't updated my blog since September.  A lot of that is because of lack of connection.  I attempted to update it in October, but the words were half-assed, the sentiment wasn't genuine.  I wrote out of a sense of obligation, not out of the love of writing.

And this has mimicked itself throughout my life- not just in writing.

A friend said to me last week "I've missed you recently"... Funny, I've missed myself.

In September, right as I was writing my last post, I spiraled.  An off-handed comment from a friend pushed my tentative self right off the ledge of grief.  It has taken me months to claw my way out of that hole.  It's not been a straight up journey- I've fallen back down a time or two.  Hurtful words from people, feeling left out, not having a "place"... those tend to trip me up.

But thanks to the wonders of modern medicine, good therapy, a purpose, a strong church community, and some helpful friends who won't let me fall off the ledge alone... I feel like I'm back.

I've missed connection.

I've wept over friendships that have slowly faded away- ones that I thought would last a lifetime.

We've hosted fewer events in the last 9 months than we ever had... partially because I've started a new job, partially because we have a new dog, and partially because I've been too weary to be social some days.

But that job?  That dog?  They have given me connection.

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I share all of this with you not to make you feel uncomfortable.  It's not to put grief upon you if we have faded apart recently.  But I share this to you to let you know that sometimes when people fade away, they need you to continue to reach out.  They may not respond, they may blow you off, or they may legitimately be too busy/ tired/ whatever to hang out.

But sometimes, as was the case with my buddy Michael, they are on that edge of the hole and just need to know that they are not alone.

That's the whole premise of Grace and Frankie- finding connection when the connection you thought you had is no longer there.  I'm still making amends with my heart and it's broken connections... but even in this bizarre social media connected world, I'm thankful for what connections we have.


Here's hoping you find your Grace (and Frankie), too.

Piles and Rugs and Pain and Faith

Growing up, I thought that by the time I was "an adult", I would be done changing.  I assumed that by the time I was "grown up"... and surely being 40 would be grown up... I would be who I was for better or for worse.  Right?

Wrong.

Our house has been one big pile recently.  Piles of paperwork, piles of plastic toys, piles of Julianna and Elizabeth's clothes because they continue to get bigger and outgrow them before I can even put up the most recent load of laundry, piles of photo albums, piles of books I bought but haven't read, piles of things that make me feel overwhelmed.

I am just now able to sort through those piles.

That was a side of grief I wasn't prepared for.  The debilitating feeling of being overwhelmed.  Not even seeing an end in sight- so much to do, such a constant reminder of being the only one who is going to be able to get it done.

Also in those piles of being overwhelmed- somewhere tucked in between the death of each of my parents- was the remnants of my previous faith.

I never renounced my faith.

I did, however, try to work through how my faith looked on the other side of chaos.

I never doubted the reality of Jesus.

I did, however, wonder how a sovereign God lined up with all of the pain we experienced.

I never ran away from the Lord I knew so well.

I did, however, yell at Him with all I had in me.

In all of the chaos... in all of our piles... as my new self is starting to break out of the debris... I am just now starting to deal with the crap left behind.  I am just now filling bag after bag of trash, making lots of trips to Goodwill, and sorting through some precious heirlooms that I've been handed.

One of the material things we've "inherited" is a rug that was in my Mom's house.  Mom didn't have air conditioning until a few years before we sold her house.  (One benefit of living in the woods is that we rarely needed a/c!)  We're not sure what happened during the installation, but something made the entirety of Mom's house smell like burning rubber for a while.  (Comforting, right?)  The smell eventually went away- except for in that rug.

It's not a smell we necessarily like, but it definitely reminds us of Mom's house.

That's how so many of the things are in our house now... and in my faith.  I don't always like what I smell, or see, or feel... but I'm grateful for what it reminds me of.  The places I've been.  The people who have mentored me.  And the faith that is evolving.

We are still nothing more than a bunch of piles in this house.  There is a good chance that when you stop by, we'll have to move the laundry before you'll have a place to sit.  But I'm hopeful that eventually the piles won't bring panic and pain, but will show the strength of where we've been.  Even when we have a bizarre smell because of it... maybe eventually it will make us all feel a bit nostalgic.

Growing up is hard.

Maybe when I get to be an adult, it won't seem like it's been that difficult.

I'll let you know when I get there.

Name it and claim it.

I hate the so-called "prosperity gospel".  I do not serve a God who blesses you because you do something.  I serve a God who blesses you because He is good... and He loves you.  So when I hear the whole "name it and claim it" mumbo-jumbo... my hackles are in a tizzy from that first moment.

But, as in most things, there is an ounce of truth amidst the crazy.

And recently I have been part of that goodness.

Last year, my word was "peace".  I prayed "peace" all over my days.  I prayed peace into the lives of others.  I worked hard to make my life something that would leak peace into those around me.  And I still do.

Those who know me well have joined me in my quest to cover my life and home with "peace"... I have received gifts and words over the last 16 months very focused on the word "peace."

So it was a logical jump that a friend use that word to explain my Daddy's death to her almost-3 year old. 

When Daddy died, I texted my friend- something that 6 weeks ago I never imagined I would do, sending life-altering news in a text.  Who would do that?  I'll tell you who... this girl.  In those first hours of confusion and anguish, I reached out to those around me with a quick line or two about what had happened so that they could rush on my behalf to the Throne of Peace... as I was unable to find my way.  My sweet girlfriend received that text in the presence of her son... and realized she had to put words around her shock and grief.  Words that he would understand- especially as they had not yet had to talk about the abstract and concreteness of "death".

In a moment of Momma-wisdom, she gently explained to young W that Miss Becky really needed peace, and it was their job to pray peace for her (me).

Beauty.

That family, like so many others around me, prayed that prayer... and I have been the recipient of peace.

Now, I will fully admit that I don't understand how prayer works.  But I know it does.  And I know that God hears the prayers of those who love Him... and loves the prayers of children.  So, win-win for me- they pray it, I get it.

But the biggest blessing- to me- in all of this is the lesson that my friend has taught sweet W.  Because every time he sees me, talks to me, hears about me, he asks his sweet Momma if I have gotten more peace.  He is now part of the bigger picture of the inter-weaving of this world and the eternal.  As he is on the earthly look-out at my life and my quest for peace, he is at the same time reaching his precious little hands toward heaven on my behalf.

He has named it, and both of us have claimed it.

Beauty.

And that makes it well with my soul. 

Peace to you, and to sweet W.

It Is Well With My Soul.

In September of 2009, I asked Mary what verse/thought/words were giving her something to cling to as she was undergoing chemo and radiation.  By this point, I knew she was weary... but for those of you who were lucky enough to know her, you knew her spirit and resolve to carry on.  She responded to me in an email (on 9/9/9 I just discovered!) with these words:

Favorite Hymn:  It Is Well With My Soul  (especially love the last verse:  "And Lord haste the day when my faith will be sight, the clouds be rolled back as a scroll...the trump will resound and the Lord shall descend, even so, it is well with my soul."

She'd also listed a couple of lines of scripture she liked, too, so I let it roll around in my mind to think about what words I wanted to put on a bracelet to give her.  I'd recently seen my Aunt's bracelets (the rubbery "Livestrong" kind) that her friends had made for her during her own fight, and just knew Mary needed some.

That Sunday at church, my sweet friend Debbi stood up to announce to the church she would not be going back to China as a missionary as previously planned.  She, too, was now entering the fight with breast cancer.  Actually, her husband announced it.  When he finished with the nitty-gritty of their story, Debbi came forward to the microphone and said "It is well with my soul."

Um... wow.

I came straight home and ordered 200 of these bracelets for Mary... and now, for Debbi too.

I will never forget giving them to Mary- sitting on the couch together, Daddy was sitting in "his" chair.  It was rare with the two of them that we were that serious- our family was constantly making jokes.  But as I told her why I printed those words (and now the connection to another fighter) and the tears flowed, she and Daddy were speechless... but I remember both of them taking their bracelets and immediately putting them on as we hugged and cried.

The bracelets were spread worldwide.  Our families and friends wore them.  I gave one of mine to someone working at Downtown Disney after it sparked a conversation.  One of mine was given to this sweet girl in Rwanda.  With every bracelet I passed out, there was a blessing of grace given.  Seeing those bands of pink not only made me smile for the message that was being passed, but it was a way to calm my heart and center it back on those words... and try to make it well with my soul.

 beauty in Rwanda

In late January, our sweet friend Leah was diagnosed with leukemia. The morning her mom was taking her for first appointment in Oncology, she stopped by our house on her way to the hospital and I popped one of those pink bracelets on her wrist.  A week later it hit me- it's time to order more bracelets.  Over the 2+ years I had the others, people loved sharing them with friends... and we'd run out!  So we knew it was time to add more "it is well"-ness to our lives. 

I asked Leah's mom for her blessing... and also asked what Leah's favorite color was (purple!) to give new life to our favorite bracelet.  I also checked with Daddy- I didn't want a color change to appear that I was somehow "moving on" from Mary... immediately he gave his blessing to the rebirth of the bracelets.  I vividly remember at our last lunch on March 22 him asking when we'd get them in and telling me he was going to start wearing a purple one with pride.  (He called constantly for updates about Leah... in fact, the last time I heard my Daddy cry was when he talked me to about Leah- and Mary- losing their hair.)

 Sweet Leah enjoying a strawberry fresh from her garden yesterday morning

Then March 25th happened.  My world changed.  I won't lie to you... it was not really well with my soul.  At all.

But that's the beauty of those bracelets.  Wearing those words has become a reminder to me... an anchor, even... on the days when I don't feel it.  Or when it's not really well.  Or when it's hard.... it's a reminder that I have to choose to make it well with my soul.  Even so it well with my soul. Even so.

Even So when Mary loses her fight with cancer.... because she gets to be with the Lord and be healed.

Even So when my Daddy dies unexectedly... because I had 36 beautiful years of him pouring into me.

Even So when a wee one is sick... and we don't know what's next... but we know God is good.

Even So in the miscarriages, the rejections, the fights, the wounds, the broken friendships, the painful words, the lost jobs, the life changes... 

And Even So in the blessings!  The marriages, the new babies, the adoptions, the attachments, the new friends, the beautiful spring days, the promotions, the hope of tomorrow...

One last thing... I found this when digging through my email archive... words taken from Mary's Facebook page.  This was her status update on October 15, 2009- I copied the words to send in an email to Dan.

Mary Waldrup 

One can never have too many prayers when those 'sea billows roll' and I must thank my step-daughter, Becky, for the bracelets which invite others to pray for me. The bracelets are inscribed with the title of my favorite hymn, "It Is Well With My Soul." Follow this link to one of the best versions of this hymn available on You Tube.

I'm wearing my new purple bracelet with joy to remind me of all of this.  To remind me of Mary, and Debbi, and Daddy, and Leah... and hope.

  

It is well with my soul.