I Can See Clearly Now (Pt. 3)

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

I was acutely aware that something was wrong with my soul-vision. I made my conviction known when I refused the rite of Believer's Baptism at age 12. I pondered it at 16 when my best friend and I agreed together that there had 'to be more to it' than what we had seen up to then. 

I staked my claim on my right to find the truth for myself when I up and moved out of state and away from everyone I knew at age 24. By then, my folks had figured out there was no preacher-boy in my future. If not that, then surely just to keep me in their fold of faith would have been some success. 

Mom and I explored my new town. She had eagle eyes in focus for my new church home away from home. Bless her heart. She found it. It was but ½ mile from my new apartment. At her insistence, we stopped in to make a courtesy call on the pastor. He and I sized each other up, and each knew ours was no long term relationship. 

My mom was further elated to find that the man and his family not only lived in my apartment complex, our units faced each other. Praise the Lord and pass the spiritual ammunition! I was as good as saved from danger in her book. What good news she had to go home and tell Daddy.

Courtesy A. Squires

Later that day, the frustration in me rose to a fever pitch as we stared one another down. Like most teenage girls, the time had come that the stresses and strains of life had impacted my mom's ability to tolerate me. You'd think she'd be happy that I wasn't drinking, doing drugs, or sleeping around. She was. She was just unhappy with my refusal to hop on the pre-conceived family band wagon.

She was also very, very nervous. My spiritual restlessness was, perhaps, more challenging to her than if I had been flagrantly rebellious. Before she slipped away, she had the grace to admit that my way had not, in the end, been so bad. Ultimately, our paths diverged, but she could see the depth of my faith and my impact on others struggling to find faith. She made her peace with me even if it may have remained a begrudging one.

Wedding Day

Not that day. No. That day she realized parental control was slipping away and with it me. She was afraid that my refusal to march in lockstep with them would make them look like failures before their peers and parishioners. If I didn't give them the ultimate vote of confidence in supporting their ministry choices, why would anyone else? That was the bottom line. My support would validate their life choices. Plain and sadly simple tho' it was.

“Why can't you be like THEM?” she demanded as she referred to the 3 blonde bombshell daughters of one of dad's peers. They'd all gone to Bible college and married the preacher boys. They were living her dream for me. Her dream was my nightmare. The rock and hard place I was in nearly broke me. In its own way, it did.

I had been locked and loaded for a while. Hesitant to let fly the ammunition I'd been amassing since I was 12 lest I reveal the divergence between us. I suppose her greatest fear was that I would be stained by the sinners with which I might interact and drift father from the safety of her fold. Hence, the need to get me committed to that new church family before she left.

Courtesy A. Hughes

I was about to disabuse her of that notion. My words erupted. “Daddy CHOSE his job. He was hired to be the preacher. NOT ME. Look around you. Which ONE of my friends goes to work with their daddy? NONE of them. Why should I be consigned to the role you have picked out for me because of his vocational choice? My friends don't go to work with their Dad. I was not 'called into the ministry'. Dad was. It's his job. Not mine.”

I began to tick off a prepared list of friends and their fathers' careers. Only 1 friend had followed a parent into the same career. She had not seen that evidence coming. Her mouth opened and closed. I shoulda been a lawyer. I drew a line in the sand that day. I never crossed it once I drew it.

I don't mind telling you that choice has not been an easy one. Lots of times it has been down right lonely. I guess one reason I don't freak slam out when Son #2 expresses a desire for navy blue hair and rub on tattoos may be that I know what it feels like to march to the beat of a hidden drummer.

Work in Progress

As much as I wrestle with my good God and understanding his plan, I know he finishes what he starts. He's in that process with me. I see the process at work in my wanna be navy blue haired, tattooed metal head. It's a good thing. Sometimes scary. Always good. I don't have to be in total control all the time about everything. Because the God who created him IS.

My poor mom and dad. I wonder how much easier their lives would have been if they had grasped that same sense of life? That it was ok to let go and breathe. It was ok to let God do what he was doing without being afraid of the outcome. The validity of their faith did not depend on me. It was rich and strong and did not need my validation.

Hey, fraidy cat, are you wrestling with your soul-vision always twisting and turning your head to see the horizon for what and where it truly is? Cause, if you are...that is often a scary, scary process. You are not alone. I'm going in search of my good God, the one who created me with a unique purpose. You're coming too, aren't you? See you soon.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Romans 8:15-16 (Amplified Bible)

For [the Spirit which] you have now received [is] not a spirit of slavery to put you once more in bondage to fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption [the Spirit producing sonship] in [the bliss of] which we cry, Abba (Father)! Father!The Spirit Himself [thus] testifies together with our own spirit, [assuring us] that we are children of God.



1 John 4:18 (Amplified Bible)

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

There is no fear in love [dread does not exist], but full-grown (complete, perfect) love [a]turns fear out of doors and expels every trace of terror! For fear [b]brings with it the thought of punishment, and [so] he who is afraid has not reached the full maturity of love [is not yet grown into love's complete perfection].

I Can See Clearly Now (Pt. 2)

Courtesy and In Loving Memory of Christina Jones Hooker

You could just feel the lady's sense of shame ooze through the computer screen. Something had happened. Exactly what she did not feel free to say. She needed prayer for a child in crisis. She was eating a big ole plate of humble pie served up cold. Both the crisis and the pie were breaking her heart. You could read it between the lines.

I had not met her before. Our paths crossed because we were both in the same group that had an e-loop. She was crying out to know she had a soft place to fall. She expressed that desire by asking us to pray. In response, I did the un-fraidy cat thing. I sent a private email introducing myself and telling her that I too had a child that was struggling. I doubted I'd ever hear from her.

In fact, I did get a few replies. Know what broke her as much as the crisis that had befallen her family out of nowhere? She was now the recipient of the same kind of judgment she had doled out before her life turned upside down. “How could I have been like that?” she wondered via email. “I thought I had it all together. I thought this kind of thing would never happen to me.” Oh the agony.

Courtesy and In Loving Memory of Christina Jones Hooker

Her sanctimony had risen up to bite her in the seat of her understanding. At least she was humble enough to understand her sin and weep over it. I did what I could to encourage her in the moment. I sometimes wish I'd hear from her again and breathe a prayer that her humility served her well as she looked for answers and direction.

We work so hard at making it look so easy, we Christians. Let me tell you a secret that is gonna get me kicked out of some places. Where 2 or 3 Christians are gathered together, you are gonna find 2 or 3 people who do NOT have their act together. I don't care what kind of shine-ola they fancy up with. Behind our fancy masks, we are wrecks JUST LIKE YOU. Or...we are a wreck waiting to happen just like that sweet, suffering friend I never met.

Oh yea, 2 of the 3 are gonna be real good at putting on a happy face and telling you the world is rosy even when they take off those rose colored glasses. The 3rd one might actually have it all together..for the moment. Just like my friend whom disaster had visited when least expected.

Courtesy A. Squires

Every once in a while, you might meet someone like me. Some of you will run as fast and as far as you can get because the truth is a scary thing. You'd rather keep your mask and your rosy illusions. Others are gonna lean closer because you feel truth resonate to the core of your bones even if it is kinda like looking at a wreck on the highway to think about what I'm saying.

I can admit this truth because it is not nearly as hard as what I did in my 20's. I set out on 'my own' to find a faith of 'my own'. I could no longer blindly follow the faith of my family just because it was ours. That inner voice kept telling me I was looking for something I had not found. As much a traitor to the cause as I felt, I broke my parents' hearts. They made their peace with my choices, but the sting never left, I fear.

You see, they had expected me to do the daughter-ly thing. My mission in life should have been to go to Bible college, meet and marry a preacher-boy, and bring him home to help Daddy run whatever church he happened to be in at the time. I would be one of the musicians, and he would be the Associate. It was a plan I had been groomed for since the 3rd day of my life when I sat in that infant seat on the piano bench of the church.

New Mexico 2001

Hello. Have you met me? I'm the girl who took her tricycle for a spin on a road that accommodated 100MPH+ traffic. Should they not have seen me coming? Or going? By the time I was 12 and turned down my spot on the baptism line-up, I also knew I was not gonna marry no preacher. Forgive the southern speak double negative. I'm a writer. I know better. It just comes out when I'm adamant.


Oh my, fellow fraidy cat. I think that may be about all you and I can handle for tonight. This water is deep. I don't want to go too far too fast for any of our sakes.


For tonight, just know this. If you are on the outside looking in thinking you'll never belong to a family of faith because we all 'have it together' and won't let you in our 'club' because you don't and never will, that voice is lying to you. If you are already a part of this family of faith but feel as if you have to keep your mask on lest someone figure out you don't have your inner act together, someone is lying to you as well. If you are hurting and in crisis and think no one will understand because a crisis like yours doesn't happen to 'good' Christians, don't even get me started! Oh wait, I already am!

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Welcome home fraidy cat. You see, I've been there, done that, and have the T-shirt to prove it as we say here in the south. Come on in from the cold and sit a spell. Warm yourself. You are safe here. You belong.

John 16:33 (NASB)
These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

2 Corinthians 12:10 (NASB)
Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong.

I Can See Clearly Now (Pt. 1)

Courtesy A. Squires

My roommate turned to give me one of those 'are you crazy' looks. She added an almost imperceptible, negative nod. The rest of my posse chimed in with vehemence. I got up and stalked across the cafeteria to prove my point. The person in question was exactly who I said he was.

I pulled up short – the smile of triumph changing to a gasp of horror. The stranger looked as if he wanted to turn and run from the crazed woman heading for him at warp speed. He sighed with relief when she pulled up short. My shoe heel squeaked from the force of my pivot.

I scurried back to the table. Chastened, I took my seat. “Uh...look at the clock,” I pointed across the cafeteria hall. “What time does it say?” Their answers did not match mine. They spoke as one. “Girl, you need to get some glasses!” I gulped and gasped as my mind came to grips with my new reality.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

A few weeks later the eye doctor gave me a bemused smile as he polished the lenses of my shiny new specs. “Your vision may take a few hours to adjust because of the degree of correction. Till your brain adjusts, things may look distorted. Don't plan on driving for at least 24 hours.”

As cautious as he was, he should have prepared me for the fact that I'd need a guide to help me walk as well. I put those glasses on. Five minutes later, the entire world went sideways. If I turned my head to adjust to the new horizon, it would flip back. And so it went for hours as I flipped my head to and fro trying to see straight. I walked like a drunken sailor after 6 months on a stormy sea. Waves of motion sickness washed over me for the next 36 hours. I didn't drive for 2 days.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

When my vision did clear, it was amazing. The trees across the 4-lane highway from my house jumped into ridiculous relief. Instead of one of those green blobs that appear on the art papers of primary school-aged children, each little leaf and limb appeared in startling detail. It was amazing. It was glorious. I was drunk off the reality of it all. And incredulous. How had I missed so much for so long and not known it?

Did you know your soul has a vision of its own? I had a sense of that reality as early as age 12. All my little friends had signed up for the rite of Believer's Baptism to confirm having professed faith in a good God who provided a Savior for their sins. Believe me, I accepted that reality with my entire heart and soul. But, I was still that tricycle riding rule breaker at heart.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

So, I did the unthinkable for a preacher's daughter. I said, “No thanks. Not now. Maybe later.” I'm not real sure one of the older sainted ladies ever got over my continued refusal. She looked crestfallen every time she saw me. If she was God's class monitor taking the names of the misbehaving, I'm toast.

I don't mind telling you that when my metal-head-of-a-music-loving Son #2 wrestles with the realities of faith, I get where he is coming from and can say so with conviction. I tell myself my past will contribute to his future in a meaningful way. There is no faith like a sweaty, hard fought for faith. Can I get an A-men? That's ok. I'm gonna tell myself that anyway.

Like Mother.... Like Son

Back in the day of my teens and 20's, my sense of dis-ease grew and grew. It's hard to explain given how I was in church on my 3^rd day of life and have clocked more pew time than most of my readers will in a lifetime if I never go to Sunday church again. The older I got, the more I knew there was more to know about my faith in a good God with a loving Savior as his son.

I couldn't put my finger on it. And, if I'd had the courage to say it right out loud, it would seemed blasphemous. The only preacher I'd EVER had was...gulp...my own father. Good daughters don't even imagine expressing doubt when it could undermine his entire career. Oh, the agony. His sincerity was insufficient to quiet my gnawing hunger. Wasn't there more to this thing called 'faith'?

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

There came a day when I could no longer refute my own soul-vision. In that instant, the world snapped into spiritual focus. I could see clearly for the 1^st time. I was again incredulous. How had I missed so much for so long, and why had no one told me? I was just as seasick as I had been the 1^st day I wore glasses. 

I was simply scared to death even tho' I knew I was on the verge of what I had always been searching for. I had found freedom but, in reaching for that freedom, I risked hurting the people whose faith I knew most intimately. Oh, the agony.

What about you, fraidy cat? Something about the faith package you've been exposed to all your life leave you wanting more but not sure how to find it? Feeling a little like a traitor because you admit, even if only to yourself, that you want more than you've been given? Does your soul-vision whisper there is more and beg you to come looking? What? You never had the chance to explore your faith? Feel jaded by faith experiences? Just plain don't know where to start?

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

It's cold out there. I know. I'm shivering right along with you. Come back tomorrow because.....you know me...this story isn't over yet. We are in search of my good God with the good plan. If you are looking for him too, why don't you tag along? Love you long. Love you strong. Welcome home.

2 Chronicles 16:9a (NIV)

For the eyes of the LORD range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him.

                                       Jeremiah 29: 23-24 (NIV)

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

This is what the LORD says: "Let not the wise man boast of his wisdom or the strong man boast of his strength or the rich man boast of his riches, but let him who boasts boast about this: that he understands and knows me, that I am the LORD, who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight," declares the LORD.

Legacy

January 2009

The words almost slipped out, but I managed to bite them back just in time. Dad and I were ambling up the driveway to the street where my brother's car sat idling. Son #2 had his hand on Dad's back just in case. We joked about his getting his aerobics for the day as he climbed the hill to the street.

When he left the hospital without her 16 months ago, his steps faltered and have never been the same. Now we have to be prepared for him to topple over one way or the other. I learned my lesson after he took a tumble out of our back door and did what the hip young kids call 'a face plant'. If I hadn't already had PTSD before that, I'd have it now for sure. His bones were unscathed; my heart was broken.

The December air was soft and sweet without a hint of the frigid stuff rumored to be headed this way. It was a perfect winter day. If only this was as bad as it will get. “Now that the leaves are all mostly off the trees, it's time for me to rake. I should be raking today to get ahead of the cold air coming.” And then, I almost said, “I'm so glad it's not 2 years ago....”

July 2010

My life didn't flash before my eyes. Her's did, and in that instant between thought and word, I was saved. 2 years ago, I couldn't rake leaves. So, I was on the cusp of sighing a deep sigh of relief that this year I could again indulge in my favorite hobby. Raking leaves. If you know me, you can testify. There's not one thing I like about fall and winter except for raking leaves. It's a sickness, but I try to pretend it's not.

I groaned inwardly knowing how close I had come to rubbing salt in his wounds. 2 years ago, I was dependent on the kindness of friends and family, but she was still here. That's how life is now. I'm often caught in that kind of conundrum. Life moves on and has taken us along without her. My relief and joy over a simple thing like raking leaves is tempered by the recurring, sudden realization that one is not as sweet without the other. She's gone. She's not coming back.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Before the end came, the efforts to save her took her voice away. I know the last spoken words between us were about food because I was feeding her the last meal she would eat. She ate it 2 months before she died. You never really know how precious words are until they're gone. You never know when the words will stop. None the less, not one of us goes a day without taking them for granted. We do so with abandon and are brazen enough to spurn them if we think the situation calls for it. Ignorance is bliss until silence deafens.

I had known the end was coming and had measured time by holidays. She was like her mom. Stubborn. She lasted one more year and gave me time to cook on my own 2 feet again. I'm not one for saving stuff. You learn to live lean and mean when you grow up in the preacher's house when it belongs to the church and not the resident pastor. I knew, however, that the Christmas card of 2009 was a keepsake.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

I found it this week. In truth, I thought I had gathered it up and swept it away with the other flotsam and jetsam of life. I wouldn't let myself think about it too much to keep self-reproach at bay. And grief. I opened it wondering who it was from. My knees deposited me unceremoniously into the chair behind me as the grief sucked the wind out of my lungs.

Her handwriting had once been the stuff of a caligrapher's pen. The childish scrawl it had become revealed the coming storm. Her body was making its way to her appointed end. She was on her way to meet the good God in whom her trust had never wavered. Her painstaking effort included all the words of Philippians 4:6-7 and ended with:

“May the breaking season be over – breaking of bones, spirits, dreams...the whole 9 yards.”

Summer 2008

She is gone. Her prayers remain. Her older grandson combs thru her notebooks full of journals and treasures the scraps of paper with jotted notes he found pressed between the pages of her Bible. She is gone. Her legacy remains.

When the winds of time have carried you away like winter leaves in a storm, what legacy will live on?

Psalm 56:8 (New Living Translation)

You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.

Malachi 3:16 (NIV)

Then those who feared the LORD talked with each other, and the LORD listened and heard. A scroll of remembrance was written in his presence concerning those who feared the LORD and honored his name.

Learning to Dance Again (Pt. 3)

Who Me? Break Rules?

I'm a rule breaker. You know... the one who planned the tricycle caper down the only thing that passed for Main St. on the island of my childhood. Let me offer some helpful words of advice: don't trust your childhood memories.

My older, wiser brother read that article about my “harmless” little escapade and revealed a piece of the story I've been missing all these years. Remember that quaint, lazy lane that meandered between my house and the waterfront? Well, think of the road that encircled the island as the track around the Daytona 500. Whadda they do on straightaways?

I'm not a NASCAR fan, but even I know the answer to that Q. Seems those old fisherman and their sons used that stretch of blacktop to pretend they were NASCAR drivers. The avenue of my jaunt to freedom doubled as an impromptu raceway of sorts. Success was hitting 100MPH between the curve before one end of our yard and the curve at the far end of the street beyond our yard.

I have to tell you, when he described the action, I saw my 4YO life flash before my eyes 49 years after the fact. I can feel my Mamma saying, “I told you so,” even now. Playing in traffic is never a good idea...even on isolated island roads...maybe especially on isolated island roads.

Triker Babe with the Rebel Heart

I'd like to tell you I've changed my errant ways about that rule breaking thing. Well, ah...no. I break all the blogging rules. I'm dangerous like that. Now, as in the days of my tricycle adventure, God is watching out for me despite my ignorance and/or folly.

At a recent conference, one of the speakers grinned and shook her had in a mixture of dismay and wonder while saying, “Carol Anne breaks ALL the rules. Her blog is an example of the fact that God decides who, when, and how he'll bless our efforts. Despite her rule-breaking, her blog has flourished.” I know she wanted to add, “in SPITE of her,” but she was gracious!

If I did what I was supposed to do, I'd limit my posts to 400 words and include sections and bullet points. I'd give you helpful information in small bytes – easily digestible - and send you skipping on your merry way. I'd be a magician with words as my wand. 

Island Girl With Salt Water in Her Veins

Alas, I'm like you. I'm navigating my days the best way I can in this fraidy cat world. I don't HAVE a neat and tidy little action plan. Life often proceeds in this manner: 4 steps forward and 3.75 in reverse. In the process of percolating on this series of blog entries, I realized something.

You can be engaged in a life filled with FRANTIC motion and STILL be living a life in limbo. That's what we reactors are prone to do. It came as quite a shock to me that as busy as I've been the last decade and a half, I really have been living in limbo. In the quiet of my heart and soul, I gave up even tho' my body kept pushing forward in life.

I began to escape limbo when I opened a hand me down laptop and wrote the 1^st blog post. The 'me' I put on hold to survive the sick kid years, the homeless years, the struggling marriage years, and the re-entry into life after the post-Chapter 13 years began to wake up as I began to write.

BOY is it SCARY! Every single time I hit 'publish' I feel like I've jumped from a cliff without a bungee cord! My blood pressure rises and falls with my blog count. Not that I'm trying to make you feel responsible for my cardiac health or anything. OK..not totally. Sort of.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

If hindsight is 20-20, I have learned that the 1^st step out of limbo is realizing that's where you've been living. I wonder how many folks are in the limbo line with me? So busy. So preoccupied. Focused on doing important things. Feeling so empty inside and knowing something is missing.

We just can't put our finger on why. We are in a dance with the devil doing the limbo thru life. Here's his dirty little secret. If he can KEEP us there and keep us blinded to the fact that he's our dance partner.....there's nothing he can't help us right into NOT doing. (Oops..I broke another rule about double negatives, but you get my point?) See my logic? What a win-win for him! In the spirit of that thought, TA-DAH!!!!!

**Stop the noise. Pull up a rocking chair. Be still. Realize that frenzy does not equal fulfillment even if you are frantic in your efforts to do good things for all the right reasons.

You can take the trike away from the girl., but....

**Tell Mr. Smarty Pants (aka Satan) that you've looked at your dance card and realize you have no room left for another spin around life with him. Limbo just ain't your style no more...as we'd say here in the south.

**Stop chasing shadows whether it is a homeschool family 3 doors down or some other synthetic icon of perfection that makes you feel like running to catch up. It may just be the path you're running will be about as safe as my childhood race track!

Point #4 – Relax. This little corner of cyber space is for fraidy cats just like you. Welcome home. Stick around. I created my 1^st bullet list. For my next trick I MIGHT just write a post of fewer than 1,000 words. Bwahahahahaaaa! Yea. Right. 

Courtesy B. Creasy

Psalm 37:23 (NAS)

The steps of a man are established by the LORD, And He delights in his way.

Psalm 40:2 (NAS)

He brought me up out of the pit of destruction, out of the miry clay, And He set my feet upon a rock making my footsteps firm.

 

Living in Limbo Ain't No Dance Party (Pt. 2)

From the outside looking in, they were the epitome of perfection. I suspect it takes exhausting effort to craft blemish-free masks. They made it look effortless. The funny thing is – I can't say they played any central role in my life. I saw them infrequently and thought of them rarely. Given those realities, I cannot account for why the news affected me as it did.

When I did think of them, it was to ponder their perfect reflections. They were a handsome couple with a gaggle of magazine cover worthy kids. I never saw anyone get ruffled. I don't think a hair on their heads stirred when the wind blew. They seemed to move through life effortlessly while every step my family took required monumental effort.

The mother rivaled Martha Stewart in demeanor and activity. Only in her case, she raised it to Biblical proportions making her the proverbial Proverbs woman. She did what I dreamed of doing...one day... despite that gaggle of children trailing along behind her. I looked at her and felt like the proverbial slacker.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

To hear her tell it, those kids loved every book they picked up making her curriculum choices flawless and her days fluid and easy. She never seemed to 2^nd guessed a single educational choice. Long before I began my own homeschooling journey, I felt as if she was the yardstick by which one would measure success should the time ever come. When my day did come, schooling was neither fluid nor easy. It was work. Hard, sweaty, often discouraging work. I 2^nd guess myself daily for the 1^st 8 years.

Her marriage was one to envy. They managed to get away for long weekends more times in a year than we had in our entire marriage. Demure tho' she was, she had an embarrassing, intentional way of dropping subtle hints about their active and robust romantic relationship. I shrugged those awkward moments off as best I could and tried to ignore the tendency to compare her fulfillment with my gnawing emptiness.

The first flaw in their perfect world included a financial crisis that rivaled ours. Somehow, they managed to escape the meltdown we endured. I suppose if I were writing their life story as a novel, I would have recognized that tidbit as foreshadowing. I was, perhaps, too self-absorbed with our own undoing to see the clues?

Courtesy M. Horrocks

After a while, I began to wonder if life was fair. Why did they get all the luck? Of course, we all know life is an equal opportunity quagmire. Didn't keep me from wondering. It's what fraidy cats do in the quiet of a lonely night. Ignorance is sometimes painful when you mistake a carefully crafted mask for bliss.

That perfect family image began to crack and splinter. The implosion began slowly and gathered momentum. Before it was over, ¾ of those perfect children were living lives of total chaos – the repercussions of which still echo today. All I could do was shake my head in wonder that I had been drawn into the hoax for so long. Not one little detail in the carefully crafted little world had been perfect.

Imagine my surprise when I witnessed my 2^nd grader's command of basic math far out pace their 9^th grader's during a casual conversation between the two some months later. I took no comfort in realizing how ironic my fears seemed in the light of truth. In fact, not only did I find no comfort, I slipped into limbo. Or, I finished the slide that started when I realized I had failed to plan my son's 9^th grade history course.

Catch Me if You Can

I felt betrayed in a way I cannot explain. They had misled me with singular success. When I was a little girl, we played 'shadow tag' under the street lights after dark. If you stepped on someone else's shadow, it was his/her turn to give chase. The truth is, you can never catch a shadow. You will exhaust yourself trying. In chasing their elusive shadow, I had created a no-win situation for myself. And, I was already living a no-win kind of life.

Is it any wonder I woke up one day and realized I was living life in limbo? As I have recovered from the daze surrounding my mother's death, I have realized that my recovery is dual. The return to some sense of normalcy after the hospital-ward induced exhaustion was rather easy. Rest does what it does with efficiency. 

In waking up from that state of exhaustion, I realized my 2^nd battle would be the one to escape the limbo that entrapped me during our descent into invisibility and homelessness. It was a shock to realize how long I had been living in limbo.

Courtesy T. Greene

Just as an object at rest tends to stay at rest unless acted upon by an outside force, an object in limbo is gonna be doing that dance till someone changes the tune. Revolting as the realization is...the only one whose gonna change that tune...is me.

What about you fraidy cat? You ever fight the feeling that you are just living life in limbo waiting for the next thing to react to? Ever look back and wonder why a single event affected you with irrational intensity? Ha! Don't even try to convince me I'm the only one 'cause my therapist on permanent retainer told me I'm not. And, I pay her to tell me what I wanna hear! See you tomorrow? Let's figure out how to change the tune and stop dancing with the devil!

Courtesy B. Creasy

                                                                                                                              Matthew 11:28-30 (Amplified Bible)

Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy-laden and over-burdened, and I will cause you to rest. [I will ease and relieve and refresh your souls.]Take My yoke upon you and learn of Me, for I am gentle (meek) and humble (lowly) in heart, and you will find rest (relief and ease and refreshment and recreation and blessed quiet) for your souls.For My yoke is wholesome (useful, good--not harsh, hard, sharp, or pressing, but comfortable, gracious, and pleasant), and My burden is light and easy to be borne.

To Live Again...After Living in Limbo (Pt. 1)

Poland 2009

I woke up one day and felt as if concrete was hardening around my legs. Every step seemed more laborious than the one before. I wondered how long I could keep walking. If I kept moving, perhaps I could stay ahead of the process. If I stopped, I was doomed. I don't think I'd make a pretty statue.

Of course, when you have little children with respiratory issues, there are days you don't consider slowing down. You ping-pong back and forth between who needs what med next and whether the nebulizer parts have been sanitized for the next breathing treatment. Combine that urgency with a sick husband who has even more breathing crises than the boys. You quickly become a whirling dervish.

Upon awakening one day, you find that you are alone and awash in a sea of autistic-ly enhanced testosterone. Only then do you begin to understand why your life has always been....not something with which your friends can identify. The chaos finally makes sense even if the realization doesn't nourish the loneliness creeping into your soul.

All Grown Up

Life keeps happening and before you know it, you are trying to create normalcy for children whose lives have been turned upside down in a borrowed/shared home that is anything but normal. Imagine those realities with all the myriad of others sandwiched in between. It would take your breath way if you had any left to steal.

I can take you to the spot on the road where I felt myself shut down and default to zombie mode. Was it already 18 months ago that we endured the mean season of death and dying? It is only now, all these months later, that I see clearly: my 1^st step toward being a zombie was when I began to live in limbo.

Psychologists will tell you that people are divided between actors and reactors. I am sure my early life experience predisposed me to the latter category. I am also sure that I spent most of my early adult years trying to outrun that predisposition. Then life caught up with me.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

I made the best laid plans over and over only to have someone waken with 106F temp at 4:30am. True story. Needless to say, after endless days of plan altering diversions, I stopped trying to plan ahead. I started reacting and taking each day as it came. I'm not sure that I could do anything differently if I had it to do all over again. I was less and less able live the role of an actor and lived more and more like a reactor.

I suppose you could think of homelessness as limbo. I certainly did a lot of waiting for that season to end. Yet, I was always moving forward because the boys and their schooling required that I do so. I guess I stayed busy hoping to forget where I was and why I was there. I stayed busy to make the time pass in hopes that the season would pass more quickly. When it was over, I was in limbo. I see that now.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

In my case, it turns out limbo was a state of mind not the absence of motion. Depression? Check yes. Anxious? Check yes. It was both situational and appropriate even on the days it was paralyzing. Homelessness does that too you. When life returned to the new normal and my situational moods lifted, something deep inside me remained in limbo. My soul? My hopes? My dreams? My motivation? I don't know. I'm percolating on that question. Maybe you will too?

Looking back, I do not know why these 2 things affected me. They were, however, a 1-2 punch. I think my stress bucket was full, and I had absorbed all that I could. I had always planned our curriculum 2 years in advance. Son #1 was entering 9^th grade. His books were all stacked and ready. I realized the stack was a book short. No history.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

I froze. I was 2 years late making the decision. I realized that those intervening 2 years had been swallowed up as our former life disappeared while my husband fought to live. It's a wonder I had made any plans and amazing that only one thing had fallen thru the cracks. Still, I froze. Oh, we found the curriculum. It was geography. It was OVERKILL. One of my biggest regrets of his 11.5 years of home-schooling. He slogged through it but got far more out of research he did on his own.

Within days of my realization and resulting, uncharacteristic indecision, I got some news that shattered me. Privately. Secretly. Indescribably. It shouldn't have. I suppose the news wielded such power because I could no longer absorb stress of any kind. If I heard it today, I'd raise an eyebrow and forget about it by bedtime.

Courtesy and in Loving Memory of Christina Jones Hooker

What about you fraidy cat? Ever wake up one day and feel as tho' you are living in limbo at the mercy of concrete hardening around your ankles? Ever wake up and realize you feel totally unprepared for what comes next? Did you ever get some news that impacted you in an irrational way that you cannot explain?

I see you. Nodding your heads yes. Hear that? It's me...sighing with relief. I'm not alone. Maybe then, you'll come back tomorrow and bring a friend? The cat's out of the bag, you know. This place in cyberspace is a safe place for fraidy cats to come in out of the cold.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Psalm 37:39 (American King James version)

But the salvation of the righteous is of the LORD: he is their strength in the time of trouble.

Nahum 1:7 (American King James version)

The LORD is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knows them that trust in him.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Deuteronomy 7:9 (American King James version)

Know therefore that the LORD your God, he is God, the faithful God, which keeps covenant and mercy with them that love him and keep his commandments to a thousand generations;