Madness In Measure

“All living things contain a measure of madness that moves them in strange, sometimes inexplicable ways. This madness can be saving; it is part and parcel of the ability to adapt. Without it, no species would survive.” 
― Yann Martel, Life of Pi

We all have a madness inside us.  It hides sometimes, however it always finds it's way to the surface.  This is the part of us that we are embarrassed of, but it's also the part that is the most "us".  You see it when you forget to check yourself when others are around.  You hear it when you're laughing so hard that you snort and wheeze.  When you laugh at your own joke, and you're all alone in your giggles, because nobody else gets it.  You feel it when the emotion that catches in your throat is too strong and you run down the street searching for solitude and scream to the heavens, because there is no one else to blame.  

I sometimes run from my madness, but it is always there...following me like a shadow that chases its maker.  

I once heard a pastor say, "you can't run away from yourself...where ever you go, there you are."  Because, in all actuality, "ourselves" our "madness" is the part of us that is the rawest and the most honest.  This part does help us adapt, because it is real and it is the truest "us" that is willing to accept who we are and what we must do to survive.  Isn't it funny that this is the very part that we apologize for the most?  We have to apologize for it though, right?  Because we can't completely control it.  No matter how hard we try to disguise it, or pretend it away, we cannot deny it.  

My madness humbles me and reminds me where I came from.  This is why I secretly cherish it...why I'll forever turn red-faced by its inevitable appearance, but never be able to let it go.  It is my "real" and what people really see on the surface is just its shabby dressings.  Because my madness gives me permission to guffaw at what is truly funny and tear at those shabby dressings that you all see, when I truly despair.  It is also the part that allows me to survive the unimaginable.  Only those who have met this point understand the madness that is required to do so...survive.  Yet, we have all been there...or will one day, and it is this madness, within measure, that will give us the permission necessary to unearth ourselves from the pit we're found buried in.  

Here you find the tears that transform into laughter; the sadness that finds joy in the ashes.  The torn relationships that reconcile amidst loss, because it no longer makes sense.

Oh if we could all embrace just a bit of our madness ;)

Arms Left Wanting

Almost 6 months later and here we are, all together in one place again... The elephant's in the room that everyone is aching to talk about, but terrified to expose.  We all know we all hurt, but we try to pretend that this is another regular day... it's just that it isn't.  She isn't here and it is abundantly obvious.  It's a blessing to all be together in solidarity and love.  This is just another moment for a first, and the tension is not missed, the loss is apparent, and I'm still standing there with my arms open, waiting for the hug that will never come.  My arms resign to the open air and are left wanting.

Tonight at dinner my husband, Josh, and I  were talking about goodbyes.  He mentioned how we say goodbye with the intention of seeing someone again.  When loved ones visit, you intend on the final goodbye...the one you say when everyone is heading back home... on being the best.  This is the goodbye with the longest hug and the biggest kisses.  This is the goodbye that you leave your loved ones with a show of how much you are going to miss them and how much you are looking forward to seeing them again.  It's funny how not every goodbye is treated with such reverence... After all, we are never promised tomorrow.  We'll wave, give a side hug, and say, "see you later"... but what if later doesn't come...

I know that the later of eternity always comes, that we will see our loved ones in heaven.  Sometimes that later just doesn't seem fair enough, or good enough because we want what we want now.  It's just so hard.  I imagine that the wait is like being caught on the inside of a beach break.  The wave crashes into your body, driving you into the sandy ocean floor, then lifts and tumbles you into, what seems to be, a perpetual summersault.  You're not quite prepared for the on slot, so your initial breath before being forced below the surface of the water is minimal, at best.  As you tumble, you are acutely aware of the time, and in direct contrast, completely unaware of which way is up or down.  There is a point that everyone reaches, where fear kicks in, that your body sends a signal to your brain...like a bright light flashing within the curtain of your eyelids, telling you that you have no more breath to withstand this deluge beneath the blanket of white water.  Then you find footing and the force of your legs rocket you up and out with a spray of the briny water and a desperate sucking in of oxygen.

For two years my daughter has been asking to be baptized, and for two years we have made her wait.  We just wanted to be sure that she understood what choice she was making and its importance.  This year she asked again with utter determination in her eyes.  We have had many God talks since January, and Josh and I felt she was ready.  Since she is so young our church has her fill out a pamphlet that is meant to help her understand the step she is taking.  Kirra and I were going through the pamphlet and we come to this question, "When bad things happen to you, why do you continue to follow Jesus?"  Kirra's initial answer was a classic Sunday school answer.  I had to remind her who I was, and that I don't accept Sunday school answers.  So I said to her, "Consider this year... your friends picking on you and abandoning you, and Dakota... Think about the day that you told me that you thought God was cruel for taking Dakota from us.  Why is it that you still want to hold Jesus' hand?  Why do you still want to follow Him?"  Tears fill the corners of her eyes and spill out along the side of her nose, and hang in anticipation at the edge of her chin.

"Because God told me I would see Dakota again mom.  He told me that this wouldn't be forever.  He gave me hope."  My child humbles me in the most gentle and sweetest of ways.  God has plans and I must trust Him.  He doesn't leave me empty handed; He gives me hope.  Although, the wait can be disorienting and agonizing; we will break through the surface and be met with relief and the air we were so desperately craving will fill our lungs.  So until that day comes, my goodbyes should be more reverent and my breaths will be more intentional, lest I find myself struggling beneath the force of the ocean once again.

The Wound and the Light

I read this quote this morning and it hit this very sensitive, very deep and very destitute part of my heart.

"The wound is the place where the Light enters you." - Rumi

This is so true and so "typical", right?  The very place you hurt the most and have the most pain is the place that the light will enter...it is, in all actuality, the place that needs the light.  But, it's more than that...this statement exposes the truth about healing.  It's painful...  You have to think about the things that are raw and grating at your caustic skin.  You can't come at it from another angle in hopes that the healing will happen through a gentle osmosis that makes it's way to your more severe and wounded places.  No...  Its like having to clean a wound with alcohol...scrubbing out the bacteria that threatens to infect and break down your wellbeing.  At first it stings terribly; causing your body to curl into itself in hopes of fending off the agony that is invading your, no longer, composed existence.  You scream and you rage until the cool calm of tears soak over your tender places.  Your tears clean your most agonizing parts and sooth your throat that is sore from your cries.  You no longer cry tears of bitterness, but of new beginnings and your soul will be refreshed.

If only healing can be as sweet as it sounds.  Isn't it interesting that the most necessary things in life can also be the most grievous.  But, it is what it is...right?  Your fear keeps you from sleeping...but what will bring your soul rest?  Sleep.  Your guilt keeps you from laughing...but what will bring you joy?  Forgiveness.  Your pain keeps you from living...but what will bring you peace?  Acceptance that only comes from diving into the very thing that causes your pain.  In the beginning your memories will be devastating, but as you move along the path of healing, your memories will become a cooling salve that you will hold protectively and gently, but with utter resolve that they shall never leave your tangled fingers.  Healing isn't something that just happens...its intentional.  You work at it, you fail at it and when you don't think it will ever happen...its there.  As life goes on, you'll have moments of remission...but you've been there and you will never sink below the surface of the water that threatens to drown you.  You'll rise above and walk among the waves that have been calmed by the Great Comforter.  There is a Light that you can reach and the darkness can never extinguish it, so reach for it.  Don't let fear keep you from the light.  Don't allow the pain to define you...that is a liberty that only healing can own.  Expose your wounds to the Light and grip your memories so you can withstand the sting.

Delicate, Vulnerable and Simply Overwhelmed

My niece passed away on New Year's Day...She was 8 years old.  She was sledding and went into the road, she was laughing...so happy; she didn't even see the car.  One of my biggest strengths in my life has always been belief.  Belief that everything happens for a reason and that anything has the capacity for redemption...no matter how tragic.  I still believe that, but it's in these moments that I grip that belief with angry and sometimes bitter hands.  I refuse to believe that she left this world in vain...for something to end in nothing would be a true tragedy.  Something will always remain.  It's interesting...it's like my belief is what maintains the balance, even when what keeps me grasping at the fibers of belief seems so contrary.  So here I am, refusing to let go and accepting that we may never see the answer...and doing this with deepest sadness.  Although, I know, the tender edges bordering our wounds will one day grow into a gentle ache or longing.  For now we are delicate, vulnerable and simply overwhelmed.  Today my daughter found a scrapbook page that her and her cousin made together.  At the top it said their names, followed by "Best Friends".  My heart beat against my ribs, threatening to escape.  You feel blessed to see evidence of great and beautiful moments, angry for the future moments that are now stolen away, and utterly sad for the empty chair at the table.  You battle between optimism and despair, perseverance and the desire to just give in.  You never completely fall prey to the despair nor the idea of giving in...you can't...because life keeps on going and the world stops for no one...and you are responsible for more than just your sadness.  I imagine, as a mother or a father, your children are attached to your heart by, what appears to be, a fragile piece of string.  You come to learn that, this seemingly delicate string bears a strength that is paramount to any other...it's never meant to be severed.  So when your child is taken from you...the cord doesn't merely break, it takes a piece of you with it.  What I find devastatingly beautiful is...that piece of you didn't actually belong to you...it belongs to her and she had to take it with her.  She can't be separated from you...she needs you, so she took you with her.  She took the part reserved for her.  And, one day, she will replace that piece when you find her in your embrace once again.

So, having said all of that, I am asking those of you who stumble across this message, please pray for my sister and brother-in-law and their two other children.  Pray that they can make their way through this labyrinth of emotions, that they can take each step knowing that they are not alone and that God will catch them when they don't feel like they can walk any longer.  Pray that they can laugh freely and without regret. Pray for strength for tomorrow and the next day then the next and on and on.

“It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.” 
― Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid

Questions, Questions, Questions

What are we willing to do with our lives?  How far are we willing to stretch?  I guess that depends on what we treasure...what we believe.  Is our belief based on a moment and then it fades with the passing breeze?  Do we stand on a firm system because it is all we know and we are afraid to step out into a world that may question us and we aren't sure if we can answer?  Or are we just standing in solidarity?  Are our beliefs based on bits and pieces of the world that we thought would fit best configured in a way that catered to our immediate wants and desires?  Or......is our belief based upon something that didn't only peek the very base of our nature but it became a very personal experience that not only affected us personally, but it also monumentally affected the world around us and how we viewed this place that was previously met in shades of gray...at least up until this point?  Belief is a funny thing and our willingness can be fickle.  When we are presented with a challenge, one that could truly cost us, are we willing to step out? On the other side of the spectrum, what part of our beliefs are we willing to push aside or hide in the shadows to achieve artificial rewards?  When we pick and choose what we want to believe, are we ever resting comfortably with adequate trust on something fully solid? Or are we slightly tense with the idea of this novice who built this tower we find ourselves in?  What are we really looking for?  What do we really want?  Do we want what is tangible or do we want something bigger that doesn't quite fit in the palm of our hands?

I think we don't ask ourselves enough questions.  I think we sometimes find a rhythm in our life and we start to get comfortable in our rhythm...the repetition can be soothing, if not monotonous.  Many of us find ourselves stuck in monotony and we have grown used to our complacency.  This doesn't mean we're lazy...it just means that we stopped asking questions.  We're still moving and working, playing and doing...but are we thinking?  Are we asking the good questions...the important ones?

Hmmmmmm

These really are the things that run through my head when I observe and experience the world around me.  I ask myself these questions.  I want to be constantly aware of the path beneath my feet.  This doesn't mean I think I'm doing anything right...I just want to keep myself in check.  I have built my tower, but that doesn't mean it's complete, or that it will ever be complete for that matter.  We all have to be carpenters, but where are we gathering our knowledge?  Are we feeding off of wisdom or are we cutting corners and just looking for immediate results?

Hmmmmmmm

Where does your willingness take you and what's the foundation it's built upon?  How much do you trust it?

Not Everybody Fits Under That Blanket

Have you ever noticed how we all like to make statements that we think will cover everyone?  Have you ever noticed that the blanket is way too small?  Unfortunately for those of us who make these blanket statements, which is more than likely all of us, we end up looking the fool.  We all get so caught up in trying to be everybody else, that we've forgotten about how we are all made uniquely.  We generalize one another, but not everyone fits under the same blanket.  Yes, there are similarities, familiarities, commonalities but there are also idiosyncrasies.  You know what is more attractive?  Our differentness...  Even if you don't like what is different, it doesn't matter...because that "different" may not belong to you, or me for that matter.  If we try to fit people groups under these blankets, that we've spent WAY too much time stitching together, we end up stripping each individual of what essentially makes them "them".  It doesn't matter what your blanket statement is about...whether you're blanketing a race together, homosexuals together,  political groups together, religious groups together or nationalities together...what you have done is created a faceless vessel that you can fill with whatever predetermined assumption that you wish to.  Do we know the individual's story?  Obviously not, otherwise we wouldn't clump them into a pile and cover them with a very minimal and jaded, if not completely false, blanket...  We've all been put there.  I don't care to be clumped into the "dumb blonde" category...but my hair color puts me there and I am treated as such.  I am a Christ follower and some choose to clump me with those who have a very narrow and legalistic point of view...but do I belong there?  I certainly hope not...  What about those close to me that are ridiculed, ostracized or just treated "differently" because of the blanket that they've been forced under?  We all want to be recognized for who we are...not who others think we are, based upon what they "believe" to be true but actually isn't so.  Yes, how we are born, where we are born, what we look like, what we believe and so on, makes us who we are...but not all by itself.  It takes all of it and our personal experiences to build the reflection that we see in the mirror.  So, I guess what I want to say is...if I have done this, I'm sorry.  May I forever be convicted of the reality of what doing so would mean to an individual.  Everyone has a story that is uniquely theirs and theirs alone...it is what makes them "them"...it is what makes me "me".  We should all be convicted of this reality, lest we find ourselves bound in a blanket of assumptions.

One

I know this man...mio marito...mio cuore (my husband...my heart).  The fibers of our souls are stitched together.  I know this because when we are separated, I can feel the gentle thread stretching and the strain on the seams.  Our love is not perfect, there is only one love that can withstand that title, but our love is precious in it's imperfections.  I could say that we know each other in the fullest, but that would be a farce.  We will discover one another every year we walk along our path...we will see more of the hidden, more of the light and dark.  This is where the amazing imperfection comes to find it's beauty...we will still love one another.  We will never unravel our fingers from the hand of the other.  We will stand firm in what we saw in our innocence...in the very beginning.  That he fills in where I lack and I do the same for him.  Then there are places where neither of us can fill the gap and God makes His home there.

One day we will look back at the tattered map that reveals every step, every dance, every word, every misgiving and every forgiveness.  This map will teach our children what it looks like to walk the road to the "Oneness" that God promises us.  You don't just become One when the ring slides smoothly into the crook of your finger.  That takes years...learning and growing never comes on a straight and un-littered path.  I can't wait to be old and wrinkly, staring into my husband's eyes...remembering when each line in time appeared in the corners of them.  Looking back and thinking, "how did all of life happen in such a short time" because time is relative - and it will be hard to grasp where it all went and how we managed.  We will laugh at the ridiculous and share in sorrows that we carried one another through.  We will know what God meant when He said that we would become One Flesh.  We will feel each others' pain and we will relish in each others' joy...because it will be our own.

"Love is like some fresh spring, first a stream and then a river, changing its aspect and its nature as 
it flows to plunge itself in some boundless ocean, where restricted natures only find monotony, but where great souls are engulfed in endless contemplation."...Honore' De Balzac