Balancing Act

It's New Year's Eve. It hit me all of a sudden that 2009 is almost over. Sheesh, I'm still trying to remember that Christmas is over.

I've been fighting a cold for the last three days. As I sit here and type I'm practically drowning in a sea of wadded up tissues, comfy blankets, and an armory of cough and cold relief medications. It's the kind of sick that makes you want to burrow under the blankets, crash on the couch, and have someone bring you hot tea and clean up your mess. It's a good thing I've never really been much of a party-type person on New Year's Eve. I'll be lucky if I can keep my eyes open long enough to say hello to 2010. Pizza, some sappy movies, and my two favorite girls cuddled on the couch sounds perfectly wonderful to me.

But for right now, Laurie's already at work, Rachel's still upstairs sleeping, and I'm hanging out with the cats and my laptop in the quiet of the morning hours, trying to come up with the right words to sum up this past year.

Last year around this time I was desperately anxious to be rid of 2008. I think I had some unrealistic expectations that 2009 was going to be wonderful, simply because I deserved a break.

Funny how life doesn't always work out quite like that.

In some ways, this year was marked with as much loss as last year. My friends that I lost to cancer, Heather and Terri. My grandfather. My grandparents moving out of the house they've lived in for decades.... even though it's only a house, it was a firm fixture in my childhood memories, and seeing it empty for that last time was heartbreaking. My job- even though I was glad to be out from that job, it still pretty much stinks to be laid off. And I really miss the people that I worked with.

But I guess the difference between December 31, 2009 and December 31, 2008 is that this time around... I know that life does in fact go on, as much as I hate that cliche. And even though this year has been difficult, there have been some pretty great moments too. I got the opportunity to return to Poland with Habitat for Humanity. I went to a counselor and started putting the pieces of my life back together. I moved- and even though the uncertainty of not having a job still weighs heavy on me... being here has been one of the best things I've ever done.

So as I'm thinking back on this past year, I guess it's been a balancing act mostly. A year of taking the good with the bad, and not letting myself fall back into that cycle of depression. 2008 taught me the painful lesson of grief, depression, and loss. But 2009 taught me how to discover the strength and grace to simply live through it. Because the reality is that you don't get a year "off" from unpleasant things happening. But how you deal with it is what defines you.

So come on 2010. I'm ready this time around.

Another Christmas here and gone...

It's winding down... another Christmas Day has come and is almost gone.

It doesn't feel like Christmas without Emily. Or at least, not like the Christmases I remember. It's different. Christmas has become a little quieter, a little softer, and yes... even a little bit darker in some ways. Christmas for me now comes in the soft glow of a candle in a darkened church sanctuary, listening to the singing of Silent Night. And the tears flowed again this year. Not the tears from a broken heart like last year. But tears of.... remembering. And longing. And even a little bit of healing.

And as I drove home from the midnight service last night, I took the advice of a friend and looked up at the Christmas Eve sky. She was telling me about her dad, and how sometimes she doesn't get the feeling that he's still with her. But that sometimes when she looks at the sky, she knows that he's still there. (I'm paraphrasing- she said it much more eloquently than I am.)

I get that feeling alot. For awhile there, I saw Emily everywhere I went. I heard her voice, followed her laughter, and caught a whiff of her favorite perfume. I dreamed about her all the time. For awhile I thought I was going crazy. And then it slowly stopped. I don't search for her in every store I go into. The sound of her voice is fading in my memory and it kinda breaks my heart. But the feeling of emptiness is somehow a little harder to handle.

But last night she didn't feel quite as gone. She was in the singing of the carols, in the beauty of the poinsettias, and in the light dancing on the icicles on the tree. And driving home in the early hours of Christmas morning, she was in the stars in the sky, the snow on the ground, and in the chill in the air. It's like that quote from Taylor Caldwell said... I felt less alone last night. And that was where I found beauty in Christmas.

Christmas Day will never be the same. But then again, nothing ever really stays that way. Christmas can't always be found in traditions. Or things. Or even people for that matter. But what doesn't change is the very heart of Christmas. The faith, the belief, the love, the joy, the promise, and the hope... that's Christmas Day.

People keep telling me that with each passing holiday, each year, each milestone it will get easier. Which I don't find to be true at all- at least not for me. I don't think you can measure grief in terms of easier or harder. I think each one is going to be different, in it's own way. Last Christmas was horribly painful. This Christmas season didn't hurt, but it was somewhat lonely, and tinged with alot of melancholy. Just like you can't measure how high up is, you can't measure grief.

You just have to take it as it comes, one day at a time.

But for this day, this Christmas, and in this moment... she doesn't feel quite so far away. And that's enough for me.


Merry Christmas.

Not alone

"I am not alone at all, I thought. I was never alone at all. And that, of course, is the message of Christmas. We are never alone. Not when the night is darkest, the wind coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent. For this is still the time God chooses." ~ Taylor Caldwell

I thought this quote was beautiful. I needed to be reminded of that this morning. As my pastor friend says, "Satis Est". It is enough.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Winter Wonderland

It's amazing how quickly you adapt to your environment.

I. Am. Freezing!!

But it's really beautiful. We started seeing the first signs of snow about an hour outside of Charlotte. Just an occasional patch here and there. By the time we hit the mountains of Virginia, it was everywhere. It was a nice drive actually. I've never driven down interstate 81 and 77 in the winter, and the snow just transformed those mountains. But Rachel's reaction was the best part. When you've lived all your life in South Carolina, more than a dusting of snow is a big deal. It's funny how you take something like the beauty of snow covered fields and mountains for granted. I looked at it with different eyes yesterday. I was about the same age as Rachel is when we moved from Alabama to Pennsylvania, and I remembered how awed I was that first time it snowed and the grass actually disappeared. It was an awesome reminder to take time to slow down and really soak in the beauty of creation. (Figuratively slow down I mean. It was me driving after all.)

It was dark by the time we finally pulled into Greencastle, so I didn't get a good look at the snow. But now I'm sitting at the kitchen table, looking out the window at a postcard-perfect scene. Mom is making a stew that smells fantastic. It's Christmas Eve and I feel.... content.

Pretty soon I'm going to wake Rachel up. The postcard perfect scenery is in desperate need of a good snowman or two.

It's not the same without you ~ Wordless Wednesday

Heading home for Christmas

Rachel and I are leaving for Pennsylvania in the morning.

Honestly, I have some mixed feelings. I'm very much looking forward to seeing my family, my pets, and going to my beloved Christmas Eve services. I'm excited that Rachel is coming with me- it'll be nice to have some company on the way up. It's really cute how excited she is about going with me. (She still seems to think I'm cool. Go figure.) Rachel is at that age where she so very much wants to be a grown up. She's 14 going on 24, know what I mean? But when she heard that PA got almost 2 feet of snow, there was that little girl again, jumping up and down and wanting to know if we could make a snowman when we get there. I'm thrilled that I'll be with my family, and that Rachel will be there, but sad that we won't be with Laurie on Christmas Day. I wish it were possible to be in two places at once.

I'm anxious to go home... and yet in some ways I'm not. Because Christmas makes me think of Emily. And I miss her desperately. It's been very easy to avoid thinking about her. Lauren and Rachel's decorations and traditions are not my decorations and traditions, therefore they are "safe". I don't see Emily everywhere I look.

Going home is different.

Home means Emily's macaroni wreath she made in kindergarten and the picture she colored on the refrigerator. Home means fighting over whose turn it was to move the mouse in the advent calendar and covering your tracks in the chocolate chip cookie dough. Home is the ornaments on the Christmas tree and endless hints about what's hidden in the brightly wrapped packages. Home is memory, and sometimes memory hurts.

But yet that's what I've been missing the most. Memories. The same thing that hurts is also the same thing that brings comfort. Memories can be painful, but forgetting is heart breaking. And I remember her most at Christmas.

I feel like this is such a depressing post for it being three days before Christmas. And I don't mean to be depressing... just honest.

I want it both ways. I want to remember and forget all at the same time.

Seven more days..... and I still haven't found my Christmas spirit. I've finished almost everything on my shopping list. I finally found the Post Office, and my cards are in the mail. My iPod is getting a workout playing my favorite Christmas albums. I even tried my hand at making mom's mint cookies. (they aren't as good as hers). I'm doing all the Christmas-y things, but my heart really isn't in it. I was at Kroger today and in the course of conversation with the cashier, told him I was going home to PA for Christmas. And I suddenly felt weirdly grown-up saying that. I'm now one of those people who travels home for the holidays.

I'm a little torn about Christmas, actually. I can't wait to see my parents. And I'm eagerly looking forward to the Christmas Eve service. Rachel is actually coming with me, and this will be the first time she's ever been to Greencastle. I'm excited for her to see my home, my cat, and for her to meet some of my friends. But Laurie is going to Savannah to meet her mom and stepfather, so we won't all be together at Christmas. And I'll admit- that's got me a little bummed.

But beyond the outer trappings of Christmas..... I still don't have that excitement. Or even the depression that I did last year. This time, it's almost like an apathy. And I think feeling nothing is somehow worse than feeling something. Even if that something is unpleasant.

Wintersong

I'm not usually a sad Christmas song kind of person. That song they play on the radio about the Christmas Shoes leaves me bawling my eyes out. The words and message are beautiful... but still....

But the one exception is this song by Sarah Mclachlan. The first time I heard it, all I could think about was Emily. And so when I miss her most, I play this song. And even though it's such a melancholy song- it fits inside that melancholy hole in my heart that is Emily.


The lake is frozen over
The trees are white with snow
And all around
Reminders of you
Are everywhere I go

It's late and morning's in no hurry
But sleep won't set me free
I lie awake and try to recall
How your body felt beside me
When silence gets too hard to handle
And the night too long

And this is how I see you
In the snow on Christmas morning
Love and happiness surround you
As you throw your arms up to the sky
I keep this moment by and by

Oh I miss you now, my love
Merry Christmas, merry Christmas,
Merry Christmas, my love

Sense of joy fills the air
And I daydream and I stare
Up at the tree and I see
Your star up there

And this is how I see you
In the snow on Christmas morning
Love and happiness surround you
As you throw your arms up to the sky
I keep this moment by and by

An Alexander Kind of Day

So it's officially been an Alexander kind of day. As in the book- "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day". One of those days where a whole bunch of little things go wrong, and even though it's not that big of a deal.... by the end of the day you're left wanting to throw your arms up in the air and just say the heck with it.

I started off by waking up at 4am and wasn't able to go back to sleep.

My Christmas cards still haven't been mailed because I need stamps. I got lost trying to find the post office. Never did find it. Cards are still in the car.

None of my clothes fit anymore.

I can't afford to buy clothes that do.

And it's not like I have anywhere to wear them anyway.

Tried to use my new Wachovia card at Starbucks today and the card wouldn't work. And of course the place was busy. And people were giving me "that look". Very embarrassing.
Turns out I forgot to activate the card.

Dropped a box on my toe.

I have terrible cramps. (Sorry guys..)

Spilled a glass of water all over Lauren's coffee table and got a bunch of her papers soaked.

Went to the store to buy a memory card and discovered when I got home that I bought a card adapter instead.

And then to top it all off.... I locked myself and Rachel out of the house tonight. In the dark. In our pajamas. In the cold. Yes, South Carolina does get cold. Lauren was at band practice and we couldn't get ahold of her. Our neighbor with the key wasn't home. We ended up having to call Laurie's dad to come over with the key.... and he was not happy with us at all. I felt terrible. After we sat out there for about half an hour, Rachel suddenly remembered she had a house key on her school badge which was in her pocket. Luckily we discovered that before Uncle John drove all the way over. But I still felt embarrassed and really, really stupid. I hate having people mad at me. :(

And now I can't sleep. I miss Emily, I'm bummed because I don't have a job, I'm starting to get a little worried about money, I'm irritated because I can't afford to get Christmas presents like I usually do... and...and...and....

I'm whining.

Seriously.... the only good thing about these kinds of days is when they're over.

Here's to tomorrow being a better day.

What happened to the joy?

I love Christmas.

I am slowly discovering though, that it is a different kind of love then when I was a child. Like most kids, to me Christmas meant presents, trees, Santa Claus, and mom's cookies. (Specifically her chocolate mint-frosted cookies, which are hands down the absolute best cookies. Ever. Seriously. Like, so good I hid them when she started putting together plates to give the neighbors. Christmas meant sharing. But not when it came to those cookies.)

And I'll admit, when I was a kid the thing I probably loved most about Christmas was the presents. Wondering what was hidden in those colorful boxes, what wonderful surprise was concealed underneath the tissue paper, and what would be waiting from Santa on Christmas morning.

And I wonder- is that really such a bad thing?

Alot of my joy even now is in memories of those Christmases when I was a child. Remembering counting off the days on the Advent calendars. The way our house constantly smelled of cookies. Being surprised when I opened my lunch box and discovering mom had sent a small container with a spoonful of leftover mint icing. Singing along to Christmas carols, and hunting for where mom had hidden the "stash of stuff" this year. (Even though I never peeked, there was still a thrill just in the knowing where it was.) Remembering lying there wide awake at 5:00 in the morning, willing the minute hand to speed up until that magical 6:00 hour when we were finally allowed to get up. And then the squeals and exclamations and shouts of joy as those boxes were finally unwrapped.

Now, as an adult, Christmas has a deeper meaning- one beyond the joy that comes from circling the pages of a toy catalog, gazing at store window displays, and dreaming up letters to Santa. I find joy in the familiar Christmas songs and beloved carols. I find peace sitting in a darkened room lit only by the glow of Christmas lights. I find comfort in the memories, and solace in knowing that Christmas goes beyond anything that can be bought from a store, or ordered over the internet.

But yet, why does Christmas seem to lose some of its magic as we grow up? What happens to it, to that joy, and where does it go? We feel guilty for anticipating what's in that pretty box because "that's not the reason for the season". Stress replaces anticipation, endless to do lists makes Christmas seem like a chore rather than a celebration, and when you smell Christmas cookies you also simultaneously imagine the numbers on the scale reading 20 pounds heavier. Christmas merchandise is making an appearance alongside the Halloween decorations, and the latest pop stars prancing around in nothing more than glorified Christmas colored underwear have the audacity to sing "O Holy Night". In some ways, I can completely understand how easy it is have the real joy of Christmas buried under the tinsel and trappings.

As adults, we're focusing on remembering the "reason for the season", admonishing that it's not all about the stuff, and aren't letting kids believe in Santa Claus. Yet it's not kids who are snapping at salespeople in the store, stressing about how on earth everything is going to get done, and bemoaning that Christmas always come too quickly. Instead of dealing with the unpleasant, we throw some more tinsel on it and pretend it's all okay. But what kind of joy is it if it has to be forced? If that's what remembering the reason for the season is all about- I think I'd rather go back to being seven and oblivious again.

I don't think there is a right or wrong kind of joy at Christmas. And there's no right or wrong place to find it. Whether it's found sitting in a church service or in a child's anticipation of Santa. In the stanzas of a familiar Christmas hymn or your 1st grader's debut as Rudolph in the school play. In the reading of the Christmas story or in watching someone you love open that perfect gift. It's found in the glow of the Christmas lights and in the grasp of a friend's hand. It's in the glue holding together a child's macaroni wreath and in the kind that binds together family and friends.

The commercialism of Christmas drives me insane. I hate that Thanksgiving gets lost in the shuffle, and as far as I'm concerned, a little of those inflatable lawn ornaments goes a long way. I struggle with buying gifts out of obligation and not from the heart. I eat Christmas cookies and can't help but count calories. And if I had my way, "Blue Christmas", "Rocking Around the Christmas Tree", and "Santa Baby" would be outlawed from every radio station there is.

But the great thing about joy is that if you really try- it surpasses all those things. So what if your neighbor has twenty inflatable musical lawn ornaments strewn across their yard? So what if your pants start to feel a little tight? So what if the relatives you haven't seen or talked to since you were five don't get a Christmas card? So what if "Blue Christmas" has been played for the fifth time in.... nope, wait. When it comes to Blue Christmas, there is no redeeming joy. Seriously- Worst. Song. Ever.

But you get what I mean. I wonder what would happen if we stopped trying so hard to make Christmas fit into our perfect molds of what it should be, and instead just let Christmas be what it was meant to be. A season of joy. Of hope. Of doing less and gaining more. I think we'd find that the magic of Christmas doesn't disappear as we grow up... it just needs the tinsel dusted off a little.

Christmas trees and memories

I've been trying to avoid really thinking about Emily lately. I seem to be falling back into the pattern of "if I don't think about, then it doesn't really exist." But you'd think after six months of therapy, it would have sunk in that the more you push things down, the bigger the mess when it all comes out. And it always does.

It started when we went to get our Christmas tree earlier this month. Lauren and Rachel get a real tree, which I was thrilled about. It was a different tradition than what I grew up with, so it was on the "safe" list. But when it came time to decorate, then I got the moody blues. Decorating the Christmas tree has always been my job. Emily hated decorating the tree- but every year she'd sit with me in the living room and keep me company while I did it. This year.... I was the one sitting and watching while Rachel decorated the tree.

But after that momentary bout of the blues, I haven't let myself think about her. Because if I do- I'm afraid I won't stop. And I don't want to put a damper on Lauren and Rachel's Christmas either. The only thing worse than actually being depressed at Christmas is having to deal with the person who is depressed at Christmas.

But Lauren knows me entirely too well. There's not much I can get past her. Most of the time I love it. Sometimes it's a real pain in the butt.

Last night we went out to do some Christmas shopping. It's kind of eerie how alike Rachel and Emily are in some ways. They have the same "all-about-me" mentality, the same dramatic flair, and the same inability to keep anything secret. While we were out, it was fairly obvious Rachel was trying to get my Christmas present without me noticing. And the harder she tried to be secretive, the more obvious she was. It's a good thing that I like to be surprised at Christmas and did my best to keep out of earshot- otherwise it would've been fairly easy to figure out what she was up to. Emily was the same way. She hated waiting for Christmas, and would inevitably give so many hints about presents she bought, that it didn't take much to figure out what it was.
Rachel was driving me absolutely nuts last night. She was poking us, teasing us, and wanted to buy every single thing she laid her eyes on. And then when it reached the point where all I wanted to do was shake her.... she held out her arms to hug me and said "I love you." I swear she and Emily were cut from the same cloth. Emily knew just how far to push you... and right when you were ready to explode, she'd do something to melt your heart. Rachel's like that in some ways.

So when we got home, I pulled out my photo album with the Christmas pictures of when Emily and I were little, and I simply sat and cried. And I realized what Jack had been trying to tell me throughout all of those counseling sessions- that the hurt really is never going to go away. And that you have to reach a place where you can acknowledge that, where you can process the emotions. Because not dealing with it, and pushing it down just makes it more painful when it eventually comes to the surface.

Wordless Wednesday ~ Rainy Days

Amused

After braving the crazy hordes of people at Wal-Mart on a Friday night (what were we thinking?!), Laurie and I decided to treat ourselves to a burger at Fudruckers for dinner. We sat at our table for about an hour, just goofing off and talking. Rachel is spending the weekend with her dad, so it was just us. I love that girl, but she definitely doesn't like to sit and linger. She's constantly on the go. So it was nice to be able to spend a little while just leisurely talking. As we were getting up to leave, one of the women at the table next to us asked Lauren how we were related. Before we could answer she asked if we were mother and daughter (poor Lauren!). Laurie was a good sport- we laughed and said, no- we're cousins. They told us we really resembled each other. I know Lauren wasn't wild about them thinking she was old enough to be my mother, but it tickled me that they thought we looked so much alike. :)

Interview time again....

I have a job interview tomorrow morning.

This time the only person I told was Lauren. I wasn't even going to tell her, but since she's the one that let me know about the job, I figured I should at least tell her. Last time I went on an interview, I told everyone- broadcasted it everywhere, and then I ended up not getting it. I'm not superstitious or anything like that, but I thought this time I'd keep it quiet.

The job is a position with DHL. Honestly, I'm not too wild about it. Sounds like they're interviewing a LOT of people. I sent an application on Monday, and by Tuesday they were already calling. They called me three times to try and schedule an interview. And the weird thing is that the position that I am interviewing for is for an Entry Writer. Which is totally not what I applied for, or even listed as an opening on the webiste. I don't even know what an entry writer for DHL is. But I figure it can't hurt to go, and see what it's all about. Who knows, it may be something really interesting. As long as I don't have to work weekends, and as long as the money is good... then we'll go from there. I guess that's one perk of the whole unemployment thing. It gives me a little wiggle room to find the right job, instead of having to take the first thing that comes open. And if nothing else, it's one more interview under my belt. And it gets me out of the house. Lately I feel like I'm just taking up space. *sigh*

So we'll see. I'm not going in with high expectations, so I'm not nearly as nervous as I was before. I have an idea of what I did wrong last time, so hopefully this time around I'll know what not to say. And who knows, this may just turn out to be a great opportunity, in spite of my pessimism. I'm learning that God has a funny way of making things happen in the ways we least expect it.

Christmas is coming

I can hardly believe that it's already December. Today is really the first day that reminds me of Pennsylvania December weather. It's rainy and cold. But even still-- I'll take the 48 degrees over the 28 degrees any day! I will admit, it still doesn't quite feel like Christmas yet.

Around this time last year I was a mess. I couldn't decide which was worse- facing Christmas without Emily, or not having Christmas at all. Everything was a reminder of what I had lost. But yet last year, I ended up finding solace in the Christmas Eve service. And that simple service ended up bringing more healing than I ever expected.

This year Christmas is different. We started hauling Lauren's decorations down from the attic this past weekend. The lighted wreath is up, the Christmas knick knacks are coming out, and now I even have a stocking on the fireplace. Lauren was insistent on putting out some of my decorations too, so we're using my Nativity scene. We're going to get the Christmas tree this weekend- a real tree, which I am giddily excited about.

But it isn't quite the same. The trappings of Christmas are going to look a little different this year. I'm a little bummed about money and not having a job. And yeah, I miss having an office to decorate, and I'm sad that I won't be singing in the choir's Christmas cantata. It's not the same familiar decorations I am used to, and the memories that go along with them. The cookies Lauren's making aren't the same as my mother's. And no one can decorate a house for Christmas quite like my mom. I am going back to Pennsylvania for Christmas- but not until the 23rd. It's fun being here and getting ready for Christmas with Lauren and Rachel, but yet it's different.

I think they call it... growing up.

But that being said- I don't have that overwhelming sense of dread and sorrow that I did last year. I still miss Emily more than words can say. And I still get teary-eyed when I think about that macaroni leaf. And I still feel guilty that for all those years I hung her godchild ornaments on the backside of the tree. And I know I'll wake up in the middle of the night Christmas Eve looking for her in the bed across from mine, and I can already feel the pang of sorrow when I remember she won't be there. But I won't let it debilitate me like I did last year.

But the most important part of Christmas is not tied up in any of those things. I learned that last year, and that's changed my perspective.

Aside from seeing my family again, I'm anticipating the Christmas Eve services the most. It's the one place I can let go of all the trappings of Christmas and embrace the true meaning. That's the one thing I have this year that I didn't have last year. This time when the memories grow dark and I find myself slipping into sadness, I have the memory of that candle-lit service to hang onto.

A month of Thanks ~ reflecting back

Even though I didn't quite make my goal of posting something every day, I still wanted to come up with something inspiring to close this month. Like how focusing on being thankful has dramatically improved my outlook on life. Or how I feel like I'm looking into a mirror and seeing the reflection of someone with a new perspective. But it hasn't turned out quite like that.

This month has been marked by alot of loss. Heather. My grandfather. My other grandparents' house. Added onto the other losses- of Emily, my grandmother, my job, and moving to a new state, I was feeling pretty overwhelmed. Everything seemed to fall apart so quickly. It quite honestly sent me into a tailspin for a few days. I felt like everything I knew and held dear was falling apart, and the mirror I was looking into suddenly shattered into a thousand shards of glass. I was entirely too busy dwelling on the things that I'd lost, I really didn't want to focus on the things that remained. But yet, one thing I did get out of this little blog challenge is a keener awareness that there is in fact always something to be thankful for. Sometimes it's not much. Sometimes it's everything. Sometimes it's all in the way that you look at it. I used to roll my eyes when people talked about having an "attitude of gratitude", but there's something to be said for that. Some mornings I stared at a blank computer screen, certain that there was not one single thing I had to be thankful for. With that kind of mindset, of course you'll never come up with something. But when I looked beyond my momentary bout of "poor me"... I found I had quite a few things to be thankful for. Sometimes it was as big as being thankful for the family and friends in my life. Sometimes it was a simple "I love you" note left for me on the counter. Like I said, sometimes it wasn't much- but sometimes it was everything.

What I've struggled with most is trying to find the thankful in Heather's death. She is still constantly on my mind. Deep down I knew that she was going to die. I think I knew from the moment I heard "liver cancer". But I certainly wasn't prepared for her to go so quickly. But then again, are you ever really prepared to say goodbye? I miss her terribly. I find myself pulling out my phone to send her a text message. I'm so disappointed that she never got the chance to meet Lauren. We'd always talked about taking a trip here together, but it never worked out. I have trouble comprehending that she's really gone. In some ways it's just as hard as Emily's death. But in other ways it's a little easier to process simply because I know that even though her death has left a hole in my heart, I know that hole eventually starts to heal. And that knowledge allows me to not get as bogged down in the sorrow, and to be thankful for the memories I have of her. To be thankful for her, and for her life.

I hope I can carry some of the lessons of this month with me in the days and months to come. That I can find a way to look for the good in the midst of the bad. Like when I get depressed about not finding a job as quickly as I'd hoped. When I'm feeling scared and lonely and worried that I won't fit in. When I find myself missing Emily. Missing Heather. Missing the house that embodies so many childhood memories. When I feel like I have nothing to be thankful for at all, that's when I need to hang onto the one thing that I know will never fail- the promise that when everything seems to be falling apart, He's always going to be there to gather up the pieces. And to turn that shattered mirror into a glass mosaic. Sometimes the things that are most beautiful, come about as a result of being broken.

So here's to finding thanks in the reflections of the broken glass in life. And the beauty that comes in the mending.

A month of Thanks- Sarah

Today I'm thankful for Sarah. I love that girl more than I could possibly say. From the moment she was born, she was "my" Sarah. We share the same middle name, Catherine, after our grandmother. I look at her now and can hardly believe that she's already 13. Seems like it was only yesterday I was taking her to the park to feed ducks that were bigger than she was. Now she pretty much can look me in the eye.

Sarah is a free-spirit. She's beautiful, she's funny, and I miss her. She's my beach buddy- she's the one that will get up and walk along the beach with me in the mornings when everyone's still asleep. She helps me look for sand dollars, and doesn't tease me about picking up every little piece I find.

I still laugh at a phone conversation between my mom and Aunt Pat. It was a long time ago- I think I was 18, and Sarah would've been about 5. I forget how the subject came up, but mom said something about me going to a wedding, but it came out sounding like I was going to my own wedding. So Aunt Pat started joking about me getting married. Sarah overheard her and got upset. She said that I couldn't get married because if I got married I wouldn't come play with her anymore.

It's eight years later, and she still seems to think I'm cool, and isn't embarrassed to be seen with me just yet. ;)

A month of Thanks ~ family

Today being Thanksgiving, I thought it was appropriate to save this post for today.

I'm actually spending Thanksgiving in Atlanta. Lauren and Rachel and I are heading out tomorrow and meeting Lauren's mother and step-father there. I'm not sure what to expect this weekend. It's my first Thanksgiving that I won't be spending with my parents, and I'm feeling a little bummed. Even though Lauren and Rachel are my family too, it's still not quite the same. It's hard to embrace change sometimes. But I suppose that's all a part of growing up.

And so today I'm thankful for my family. My parents, Emily and my other "sisters", my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins... all of them.

It's easy to take them for granted. I took Emily for granted her whole life. And it took her death to make me realize just how precious family can be. And how I'm so blessed to have so many people in my life who love me.

Family.

They drive you nuts, make you laugh, they make you cry, can send you running for the nearest loony bin, they make you angry, and they love you in spite of the ugly sides.

Some days it's harder to remember. Some days it's the only thing that keeps you going. I find God has a wicked sense of humor when it comes to family. He links a group of people together that if you weren't related to them, you probably wouldn't have anything to do with them. :)

I'll be honest. Sometimes I find it hard to be thankful for family. Sometimes all of the dynamics just gets to be too much. But I guess in some ways, that's part of the beauty of family. As much as we all would like to sometimes, you can't ever separate yourself from them. They're a part of you, a part that goes deeper than just genetics and family ties- they're intertwined in who you are. They're memories and hopes for the future. They're the whispers of happy times, and shadows of darker nights. They belong to you, and you to them, in a way that friends simply can't.

Today I'm thankful for all of it- for the light and the dark. In all of it's beauty, it's ugliness, it's ups and downs, high points and low points.... at the end of the day, your family really is sometimes all you have.

A month of Thanks ~ feeling thank-less

I've been rather mopey the last few days, and honestly haven't felt like writing anything. Especially writing about something to be thankful for. I came up with a few half-hearted thoughts... but I've learned that trying to force the words when they won't come usually never works. Everything I was writing about felt... flat and hollow. Like the writing assignments you had to do in English class on a book that you hated. My English teacher could always tell when I was writing about a topic I could care less about. She said the writing was sound, but she could always tell when it was missing the heart. That's how I've been feeling about my little month-long assignment the last couple days. That the words were there, but not so much the heart. Then I was frustrated at myself that I couldn't even stick to the whole being thankful thing for a measly little month.

But, how sincere is gratitude if it has to be forced? When the heart of gratitude is missing... it ends up being just a few empty words.

We had our life group meeting last night. I really wasn't in the mood to be there- but since they meet at our house, it's kind of hard to find an excuse to miss it. I should probably apologize to them- I wasn't the greatest of company. One thing that the counseling sessions I went to taught me was learning to recognize and read the signs, or "triggers", that something wasn't right. I think it only took Jack two sessions to pick up on the fact that when something has me upset, or when I'm holding back on saying something, I start chewing on my thumbnail. And that when I'm nervous or upset or dwelling on something- I start shredding things. Last night I was up to two napkins, and halfway through tearing my paper plate to bits before I realized what I was doing.

So then I started running through all the things that could be contributing to the shredding of paper products... and I came up with quite a list. I miss Heather. I'm sad about my grandfather. I keep picturing my other grandparents empty house and it depresses the heck out of me. I'm frustrated that I don't have a job. I'm so thankful to be here, but in some ways I still don't quite feel at home. I worry about what will happen if I can't find a job. I'm wracking my brain trying to figure out what I even want to do with my life. I'm lonely, in some ways. I am not looking forward to Christmas AT ALL, and that depresses me. I love Christmas. I do want to see my family for the holidays, but I don't want to make that drive again. I'm worried about Lauren's job situation. Some days I'm not sure what my role is here. And of course, there's the ever present hole in my life that is Emily.

I wasn't paying much attention to the discussion last night, to my chargrin. And when it came to my turn for prayer requests- instead of sharing some of that stuff... I clammed up. I really like the girls in the group. And I know that they genuinely care, and would listen. But I just couldn't bring myself to open up. In some ways, I still feel a little out of place. And yet, I can come to a computer and spill my guts to who knows who out there reading this. Maybe because this allows for a little anonymity. There's a measure of safety in typed words on a screen. Computers don't talk back.

In a strange way, I guess today I'm kind of thankful for feeling thank-less. All my life I've had the tendancy to ignore my feelings. To bottle them up, and wait for it to go away. My therapist told me that once I recognized a "trigger"- I had to make a conscious choice. Either deal with whatever's bothering me, or push it aside. Alot of what's bothering me isn't really something that can be "dealt with" or easily fixed- it's pretty much all in my head. But Jack also told me that allowing the feelings to just be is also a way of dealing with it. "Let yourself be upset, mad, sad, angry, etc." he told me. "Just don't let it become all consuming."

So today I think I'll do just that. I'll recognize that I can't make myself feel something I don't, and I'll try to be okay with that. I'll acknowledge that there are somethings that are beyond my control and that I'm just going to have to learn to deal. I'll miss Emily, and Heather, and yet still thank Him for the memories I have of them. I'll snap out of my moody blues, and it will once again be safe for paper prodcuts to be within my grasp.

A month of Thanks ~ text messages

Today I'm thankful for text messaging on my phone. Seems like a trivial thing to be thankful for, but thankful I am nonetheless. If someone would have told me two years ago that I would have not only joined the ranks of the texting masses, but also got the fancy phone with the keyboard, I would have laughed in their face. Yet here I am, fancy texting phone and unlimited message plan, and thoroughly loving it.

In keeping with my character trait (or perhaps flaw) of saving EVERYTHING, it shouldn't come as a huge surprise to reveal that I save just about every message I get. I even typed up messages from old phones so I could keep them forever. When my spirits start to flounder, sometimes reading a message from the people I love most is enough to lift them back up a little.

Lauren has a knack for sending me a text just when I really need to hear an "i love you" from someone. My parents have fancy new Blackberry phones, and have also joined the ranks of the texting world. I have several funny messages from Rachel. Pictures and messages from my Aunt Lisa make me smile.

I still have messages from Heather, and I find myself reading them over and over again. I do not, however have text messages from Emily. This bugs me alot. I didn't hop onto the texting bandwagon until after she died. Just one of the many things I still sometimes kick myself in the butt for.

Last night my friend Debbie sent me an out-of-the-blue message, just to tell me she'd been thinking about me. It came at one of those moments where I was just feeling mopey. That simple little message flashing across my screen reminded me of how blessed I still am by the friends and family in my life.

I don't need a piece of technology to realize their importance, but the countless messages I've saved over the last couple of years are a tangible reminder of all that I have to be thankful for.

A month of Thanks ~ being brave

We just finished sniffling our way through the movie "Steel Magnolias". Rachel picked it out, even after I warned her it was a tear jerker. I didn't think I'd ever want to see that movie again- the plot hits just a little too close to home. I was trying to think of an excuse to not watch it, but being the people-pleaser that I am, I didn't want to be a party-pooper. I figured I'd suck it up and watch the movie with them. I can't keep running away from everything that could possibly be a reminder. Otherwise all I'd ever be doing is running.

And oddly enough, it didn't bring the reaction I was expecting. Of course I cried, but I cried because it's a sad movie, not because it especially reminded me of Emily. And I realized that maybe, just maybe, dealing with a potentially difficult reminder is easier than hiding from it out of fear. And that maybe the first step towards being brave sometimes isn't a step, but an unwanted push. I know, I know- watching a sad movie doesn't exactly fall into the category of incredible acts of bravery. But for me, the "I don't address my feelings head on, but bury them inside and avoid unpleasant situations at all costs" kind of girl I am... it's a small step forward.

So tonight I'm thankful for bravery- even if I didn't start out looking for it.

A month of Thanks ~ just because

I'm thankful for the quick, out of the blue notes Lauren leaves me. The no special reason, just because I think you're wonderful, and I want to say I love you kind of notes.

It really makes my day.

I'm thankful for the pictures Rachel colors for me, and the notes she writes me.. When I got home Wednesday, she'd written me a letter on her whiteboard, telling me how glad she is that I've moved in, and how much she looks up to me. It made me cry. And the sap that I am, I even took a picture of what she wrote so I'll remember it for always.

I'm thankful for the just because moments.

A month of Thanks ~ it's good to be home

I did miss yesterday... simply because by the time I finally got home, I was too tired to speak a coherent sentence, let alone try and type anything.

This morning I am thankful to be home. I fell into bed last night, and slept like a rock. I was so happy to see my bed and my pillows again! I didn't bring my pillow with me when I left last week. Isn't it funny how you never sleep quite as well without it?

I'm glad to be home, but it's still a little hard to figure out where exactly home is these days. Even though the circumstances sucked, it was so good to see my family again. And as anxious as I was to get home and see Lauren and Rachel (and my pillow) again, I was pretty bummed leaving Philly on Tuesday.

Now I'm sitting in the quiet of the living room, trying to decompress a little, and working up the ambition to haul the junk out of my car.....

Perhaps I'll just enjoy the solitude of home for a little while longer. The stuff can wait.

No more

I am not going to another funeral. I've had just about all I can handle.

I'm feeling mixed emotions- all I want to do is go home. I want to sleep in my own bed, with my own pillows, and get back to wearing flip flops and eating outside. I miss Laurie and Rachel. But I miss my family here already. I'm not sure where home is anymore.

A month of Thanks ~ Pop-Pop

My pop-pop's funeral is in just a few hours. I asked to read a scripture verse at the funeral today. I wish I could come up with something more profound to say at the service- but all I have is a bunch of memories that I don't think I could string into a coherent speech. It's strange how each death affects you differently. I guess in a way I was expecting this soon- he's been sick for over a month. I'm sad, and I'm going to miss him.... but in some ways I said my goodbyes many months ago when dementia took away the man who was my grandfather.

So today I'm thankful for my pop-pop. My parents love to tell the story about the day I was born. My bassinet in the hospital nursery was next to this baby boy who, as my mother says, looked like a baby football linebacker, and had a face that only a mother could love. Apparently pop-pop was incensed that his "beautiful granddaughter" was next to that "ugly baby", and kept insisting loudly that he be moved away immediately. :)

The summer that I was 12, I spent two weeks with them by myself over the summer. It was a huge deal, I got to fly alone, and had them all to myself. Pop-pop made the world's second-best pancakes, (my dad makes the best), and he made them as often as I wanted. My grandmother kept miniature milky way bars in her candy dish, but she was rationing how many I could have because I was "getting chubby". Every so often I felt a nudge in my side, and a candy bar slipped into my hand. One quick sideways glance, and pop-pop just winked and smiled.

He rarely called me by my name, it was always "how's my girl?". And he always wanted to know how many boyfriends I had. When I answered with the usual "none"- he wanted to know if all the boys in school were stupid and blind.

He was a special man. And everyone loved him- especially the little old church ladies. When we went to visit him at the assisted living facility this past Father's day, there he sat with a group of women. He even had the aides wrapped around his little finger. The one girl came over with a bowl of ice cream and said "here Mr. Norman- I put your favorite sprinkles on it for you." And she was all of 16! He just had this way about him that made everyone love him.

I hated to see him like he was these past few months. Dementia/Alzheimer's is a horrid disease. But even up to the last time I saw him, he still called me "his girl". I don't think he remembered my name, but I think he still at least knew who I was. And I'm so thankful, because I couldn't stand it if he'd forgotten me.

As much as I'll miss him, I'm glad that he's not in discomfort anymore. And I'm thankful for memories, and that I have the best pop-pop a girl could have ever hoped for.

A month of Thanks

I'm thankful for the quiet of my hotel room, my glass of wine, and the fact that this incredibly long day is finally over.

I'm not even going to think about the funeral tomorrow. As Scarlett says, "Tomorrah is another day".

A month of Thanks ~ in the midst of chaos

It's only 10:00, so technically I'm not late yet on my "thankful" post for today.

It's been quite a bit of chaos this weekend. My other grandparents are in the process of moving from their 4 bedroom, colonial house that they've lived in for the last 40 years to a one bedroom apartment. Before my pop-pop passed away, my parents had already planned to come up for moving day/weekend. Obviously, I hadn't planned on being here for the moving festivities. But pop-pop's funeral isn't until Tuesday, so since I'm here, I got to help too. Not sure how much of a help I've been, but I've been trying to be useful in spite of the lingering general depression from Heather, my pop-pop, and being cranky and grumpy. My grandparents live within an hour of where my pop-pop lived, so we've been bouncing back and forth between my dad's family, and my mom's family. I swore after I moved last month that I wasn't going near another box or moving truck for a very long time. And they say God doesn't have a sense of humor. :)

I'm not sure what exactly I'm thankful for in all of this chaos. Probably just the chance to be here with my family. Even though I wasn't planning on staying for a whole week, I've missed my mom and dad. And I always love the chance to see my aunts, uncles, and cousins. I just wish it wasn't for such a sad reason and crappy circumstances that I'm still here. But I guess finding the good in the midst of the bad is what makes you appreciate it all the more, right?

A month of Thanks ~ Happy Birthday Lauren!

In the midst of what has turned out to be an incredibly horrid week... I do have something wonderful to be thankful for today. It's Lauren's birthday. And while I'm thankful for her everyday... today I'm doubly so!

Lauren is my mother's first cousin. Which I guess makes us second cousins. Or is it 1st cousins once removed? Or something like that. I never could keep all that straight. As a child, I adored Laurie. I loved her laughter, I loved her hugs, and I loved how she never made me feel like the annoying brat I probably was. She always told me how beautiful I was. And how much she loved my name. She listened to me in a way that most grown-ups didn't. She listened like the silly tales of a 1o year old was the most fascinating thing she'd heard all day. I loved how she made a fuss over me every time I saw her. I loved her for all those things, but what I probably loved most was that she was one of the few adults that never made a fuss about how tall I was getting. Perhaps since she's also tall, she understood. And as painfully shy about my height as I was, if I hadn't adored her already, she'd have become my hero simply for that reason alone.

After my great grandmother died, and then later after we moved to Pennsylvania, we didn't make the drive back to Columbia for Thanksgivings anymore. The last time I saw Laurie, I think I was about 13. Rachel was maybe six months old. Then in 2005, we had a mini family reunion at the beach. Lauren came with Rachel, and as soon as I walked in- there she was with that same smile and huge hug I remembered as a kid. (I must admit though... I was quite devastated and thoroughly dismayed when I hugged her back and realized that I was half an inch taller than her).

That week was one of the best memories of my life. We hit it off from the start, and spent many hours sitting on the beach, just talking. There are very few people that you meet that you have an instant connection with. I found myself telling Lauren things I hadn't told anyone before.

After we all were back home, I don't think three days had passed before I got an e-mail from her inviting me to move in with them. :) It took four years, but I finally took her up on it.

But during those years, she was there for me like no other person has ever been. She was the first person I called when something happened- good or bad. She was there for me when Emily died, and ever since. She's the one that finally made me take that step and go talk to a counselor. Sometimes I think she knows me better than I know myself. She knows when to push, and when to back off. She's more than a cousin. More than a best friend. More than a kindred spirit. More than a sister. She's all those things times ten.

Lauren is one of those people that moves with a quiet grace, the kind that you don't always notice right away. She has a way of making people feel comfortable and loved. She has a smile that lights up a room, and a laugh that you can't help but join in with. She's beautiful- inside and out, even though she doesn't see it in herself as much as I think she should. She listens, she's patient, she encourages, and she has a heart bigger than anyone I know.

And now she's opened her house and has given me a place to stay. A place to start fresh. This past weekend when I got the news about Heather, she sat with me. Not saying a word. Just rubbing my back as I cried on her shoulder for an hour. She knew I didn't need words, or platitudes, or any of the other silly things people say. I just needed to know she was there.

I still marvel at how the grown up cousin I adored
as a little girl has become my closest confidante,
my bestest friend, and the older sister I never knew.

Today and everyday... I'm thankful for her.

Happy Birthday Lauren! I love you!

A month of Thanks ~ timing

I had no idea when I started these daily "thanks-giving" posts, it would be in the midst of a whole lot of unpleasantness.

My pop-pop died this morning. On top of Heather dying Saturday, and her funeral last night.... I think I'm just kind of numb.

And I have no idea what to be thankful for today.

Pop-pop has been very sick for the last three weeks. I think we all knew this day was coming... but knowledge still doesn't prepare you for the sadness. And for me, the timing.

I guess the one thing that I am thankful for though... is in fact, the timing. Originally, I had wanted to turn around and head back home today, but decided to stay until Friday. So at least I was still here when it happened.

It's not much to be thankful for... but at the moment it's the best I can do.

A month of Thanks ~ Heather

Today I'm thankful that I made the trip for Heather's service last night.

I really was waffling about whether I wanted to make the drive. Part of me was saying it was kind of dumb to drive all that distance for a funeral. But she would have done it for me. And I couldn't bear not to come.

I seem to have followed the remnants of hurricane Ida all the way from Columbia. It poured the entire drive- until I hit Martinsburg, WV. It stopped raining for the last 30 minutes of my drive. But in some ways, I'm thankful for the crappy weather. Even though it kept me from appreciating the fall beauty of my beloved mountains, the rain made me focus on driving. Sometimes on long drives I tend to let my mind wander. 8 hours alone gives you ALOT of time to think. But yesterday I was too busy making sure that I didn't get into an accident, I didn't have much time to think about Heather, and about how desperately sad I am.

Her service was beautiful. It was definitely unlike any memorial service I've ever attended.
As we walked in, they had a collage of pictures set up. And my favorite one of the two of us was on there. It caught me off guard, and then the tears started. The church was packed. I knew she had touched alot of lives, but it still astounded me how many people were there. At one point, more chairs had to be set up. It reminded me of Emily's funeral when the organist had to keep playing beyond the starting time because people were still filing in.

Her service was what I think I would want mine to be. There were alot of tears... but mostly laughter. It was truly more of a celebration than a "goodbye". It was a tribute to her faith, and to her indomitable spirit throughout the last seven months of her battle with cancer. I still cried through the whole thing. The pictures taken of her the week before she died were the hardest to see. She had lost so much weight, she was mostly unrecognizable. Except for her eyes. You could see even in the pictures that her eyes hadn't lost her laughter, her sweet spirit, and that fire and passion that made Heather... well, Heather.



She fought a hard battle. It broke my heart when her husband described how much pain she was in towards the end. I'm glad that she's pain free now. After hearing that, I wouldn't have wished her here one day longer to suffer so. But I am still so heartbroken that she's gone. After the service, I went to hug Gary, her husband. He said to me, "I'm so glad you came. She thought the world of you."

There went the tears again. I've struggled most with feeling like I didn't do enough. That I didn't go to see her when perhaps I should have. That I didn't say enough, that I didn't try hard enough. That perhaps if the situation was reversed, she would have done a better job of being a friend. I was afraid that she didn't know how much I love her, because I have a tendancy to not say it often enough to those I care about most.

That simple sentence broke my heart and healed it at the same time. I think she knew. I think she knew that I wasn't her. And she never needed me to be "her". She loved me as I am, shy and reserved and reticent to share sometimes. Heather was the kind of friend that accepted all of you. If nothing else, hearing those words "she thought the world of you", took away some of that guilt I've been feeling.

I'll think of her when I see or smell a flavored coffee. We always raced to see who could make the first pot of "the good stuff" at work. I'll think of her when I taste chocolate. Especially M&M's. I'll miss being called "chickadee", her pet name for everyone. I'll miss her laugh. I'll miss her hugs. I'll miss her wisdom. Heather was one of those people that wouldn't give you the answer you "wanted" to hear. She cut to the chase, and told you what she thought. And most of the time, she was right. Even if I didn't always want to hear it right away. She could read me like a book. "What's wrong?" she'd ask. If I'd say "nothing", she'd ask again. If I still insisted nothing was wrong, she'd sigh and say... "you always chew on your thumbnail when something's bothering you. Now what's wrong?" There aren't many people that can "bully" things out of me when I don't want to talk. Heather always could.

My beautiful friend.... I'm trying to be thankful for your life. It blew me away just how many lives you touched. And I hope you know that your prayer was answered. That through your fight with this horrid disease, you still shone as a light to so many of us. Every person there was a testament to that. You've touched us all, and your memory will be with us forever. When Emily died, I clung to the phrase that "Love Never Dies". I say that now for you too. Part of me is still so angry that you're gone. I'm selfishly sad for myself, because I miss you. Because it's not fair, because 44 is still so young, because you had to suffer so much. But it's all part of the process, right? I'll carry a piece of you with me always.

I'm heading back to Columbia tomorrow, with a heart that's both heavier and lighter at the same time. Heavy because of the finality of goodbye. Yet lighter because in some way I feel like I owe it to Heather's memory to do something with my life. To be the kind of friend Heather was. To love more freely, and to show that more often. To see beyond my own little circle, and to be a light to those I come in contact with every day. Heather taught me that. And more than anything, I want to honor that lesson.

And Heather--- I think the world of you too.

A month of Thanks ~ the most important Veteran I know

Since today is Veteran's Day, I thought it was appropriate to dedicate today's thankful post to the most important Veteran I know... my Dad.

When people asked what my dad did, I proudly said he was in the Air Force. Although I didn’t appreciate it when I was younger, because of his job I was able to experience a part of the world that most people will never see. I lived in a village of people that didn't speak the same language, eat the same foods, or share the same faith, yet I think it gave me a tolerance and acceptance of people I don't know if I would have otherwise. I walked the halls of the Pentagon like I owned the place because “my dad works here.” My dad is also the one who made me “cool” in a new elementary school. On career day, Dad brought his K-9 squad and did a demonstration with the drug dogs. I was seriously the most popular person in the 4^th grade. And he came every year after that. He’s a hero to this country, and he’s a hero to me.

He sat with me at all hours of the night in various emergency rooms when my asthma flared up. When those mini beanie babies you got in McDonald’s happy meals were all the rage, he ate at Mickey D’s for weeks to get those stupid little toys. When I was home sick from school one day he bought me a Grand Champions horse figurine. Just because. When I’m not home and he hears an ambulance drive by, he calls to make sure I’m okay.

He’s the one I called when my band director made me cry in front of everyone in 11^th grade. My dad showed up with mirrored sunglasses, arms crossed, and a scowl and frightened my band director so badly that from that day on when he picked on my friends, their comment was that they were going to “call Melissa’s Dad”.

Dad and I don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. Okay, most everything. We argue and he drives me up a tree sometimes. But then again, I know I can also bug the living daylights out of him too. That’s the beauty of family. They still love you in spite of your ugly sides.

My dad is the strongest man I’ve ever met. And by strong I mean a strength of character that has both the “tough” side, and yet the side that can cry. He showed me by example the kind of man I hope to marry someday. I’ve grown up with a man who showed affection and respect to his wife and kids. He’s the kind of guy that opens car doors and pulls out chairs. He’s taught me to set my expectations high and to never settle for anything less. My dad is fiercely loyal, and would fight to the death anyone that threatened the people he loves. I know I can call my dad any time for anything. All my life he has taught me right from wrong, yet he gave me a way out for the “wrong” he knew I would inevitably do. On the day I got my driver’s license I remember him sitting me down to talk to me about alcohol. He said that while he hoped I would use common sense, he wasn’t naïve enough to think that I wouldn’t drink. He told me if I ever found myself in a situation where I couldn’t drive, to call him. Day or night and he would come and get me. And that resonated with me. It was the voice in the back of my head, reminding me that even if I did something stupid, Dad was always there to offer a way out.

I’ve made a lot of stupid decisions in my life. I did a lot of really dumb things that make me cringe in embarrassment now when I think back on them. I know that he was disappointed when I quit the swim team in junior high. And when I didn’t practice my clarinet as much as I should have. When I didn’t finish my gold award for Girl Scouts. When I didn’t go to college right away. But the key is that even though he was disappointed in some of my choices, he’s never been disappointed in me. And I know that.

I often wished that I had the desire to join the military. I wanted in some way to honor the commitment my dad had made to his country by following in his footsteps. Not to get into politics and all that "mess", but post-September 11th, I couldn't bring myself to commit to a calling for a government whose policies I didn't agree with. Of course, that doesn't mean that I am not grateful for the men and women that are serving even as I type this. Whose sacrifices allow me the right to express my thoughts. The men and women of the Armed Forces have my utmost respect and admiration. I just wish this mess overseas would end. (Okay, end of soapbox!)

Eventually I realized that I didn't have to honor my dad by being like him. But I can honor him by becoming a woman he's proud to call his daughter. 'Cause I sure am proud to be just that.

So today, while I'm thankful for all the Veterans that have served, and are currently serving... I'm most thankful for the one I call dad.

A month of Thanks ~ Terri

Today I'm thankful for my blog friend Terri. I've mentioned her before- she's an amazing artist, and an incredible writer. Her blog, honor yourself, is one of the first stops on my daily reading list. I've never met her in person, or even spoken to her on the phone, but her e-mails have been a source of light in the dark over the last year. As well as her art. I bought a poster from her website. I was actually looking for a gift for a friend, and stumbled across this one. I cried when I read it, because it summed up exactly what I was feeling about my life "post-Emily". I had it framed, and it hangs over my dresser. It reminds me that I do carry a piece of Em wherever I go.

Terri has this incredible knack for knowing exactly what to say. Her e-mails make me think, they make me ponder beyond just the current emotion, and they make me dive deeper into the heart of it.

Her blog this morning was really beautiful. She talked about background noise, and how it can drown out the noises of life we're straining to hear. I can't do justice by just paraphrasing what she said, so you need to read it in it's entirety. The paragraph at the end hit me like a ton of bricks, and it was exactly what I needed to read today.

the noise outside. the noise inside.

Terri- thanks for being the whisper that cuts through the loud noises. I'm thankful for you!

"hopefully it's just like the noise of life.

sometimes you don't notice it.
sometimes you can hear leaves fall and be
moved by the sound. and sometimes you can't
hear anything soft and gentle happening
around you.

it just depends on the day.
and the noise inside you."
~terri st. cloud

A month of Thanks ~ friends that care

Since Saturday, I've had countless calls, text messages, e-mails, and facebook hits from friends. Friends calling to tell me what happened, friends making sure I'd heard the details, and friends expressing their sympathy and love on facebook.

Today I am thankful for each and every one of those people.

Heather's memorial service is Wednesday night. I'm going to get up early that morning and drive back. I hate the thought of that drive... but I feel like I owe it to her memory to go. To honor her, and to say that final goodbye. And I think it will be good to be with those friends that knew her and love her too. Lauren has been such a blessing this weekend through it all.... but it's slightly different because she'd never met Heather.

I'm not in a place yet where I can be thankful for Heather's life, and for all that she was to so many people, and for the impact that I know she's had through her life, and even her death. I know that will come eventually, but for night now- I'm just simply so sad that she's gone.

A month of Thanks ~ sticking to it

*sigh*

I thought very much about skipping today. I figured that I "deserved" a pass... a freebie... a "just lost a dear friend so it's okay not to be thankful for anything so I get out of blogging" free card.

But I never did like to take the easy way out.

Today I am thankful for putting one foot in front of the other. For seeing the beauty in a fall day, even through the tears, for the song that comes on the radio that puts words to the heartache, and for the wordless understanding that comes from a simple grasp of the hand.

Today I am thankful for the beauty in remembering that Love truly never dies.

Heather

I got the phone call today. Well, two phone calls and a text message. They came about two hours ago.

Heather died this morning.

I knew as soon as I saw the name on the caller id on my cell phone that she was gone. I stared at it, paralyzed, not answering. As if not answering would somehow make the message on the voicemail not true.

As I listened... I think I felt my heart break.

And then I cried into Lauren's lap for an hour. The nasty, heaving, sobbing, "ugly" cry. The kind of cry that I haven't done since the day Emily died. And God bless her, Laurie didn't say a word. Just sat with me, held me, and let me cry.

Oh how I wanted to believe that He was going to heal her! How I so desperately wanted my cynical outlook to be proven wrong! It's not fair. I want to wail at the sky and curl up in a ball and close my eyes and pretend it's all a bad dream.

She can't be gone. Not Heather. Not my friend.

I keep thinking of the last time I saw her. The last time I heard her laugh. The last time I hugged her.

I never cry. And now I can't stop. And I don't know if I'm crying for her, or for myself. Maybe both.

I think her memorial service is Wednesday. I can't decide if I want to make the drive and go. Part of me feels that I owe it to her memory. Part of me wonders if it really matters.

I guess I'll make that decision when I'm thinking a little clearer.

Oh Heather..... I miss you already.

A month of Thanks ~ a mish mash of stuff

I must admit, this morning I'm not feeling especially thankful for anything. Call it a funk, foul mood, or just plain feeling sorry for myself... but I'm finding it alot easier to list the things that are going wrong at the moment, rather than find something to be thankful for.

So I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and remind myself that there is always something to be thankful for. And of course, things quickly come to me. And since I'm not in a mood to elaborate on just one thing.... today I'm simply thankful for a mish-mash of stuff.

I'm thankful for the cats that slept on my feet last night because I think they knew something was wrong. Usually they don't stay with me.

I'm thankful for the teenager that makes me laugh and forget my troubles.

I'm thankful for my cousin that knows sometimes a hug says more than words.

I'm thankful for the comment my mom left me on my last post- and even more thankful for my mom.

I'm thankful for my dad who patiently listens to my silly questions about all things fish-tank related, usually when I'm calling him smack-dab in the middle of the workday.

I'm thankful for the friends who call and keep me updated on Heather.

I'm thankful for the internet, that keeps me in touch with so many people.

I'm thankful simply for the fact that I'm still here.


Now the key is to keep these thoughts going through the day....

Do you ever get used to saying goodbye?

I hate that word. Goodbye.

Someone once told me that the word goodbye came about from the phrase "God Bless Ye". Whatever. It's a horrid word. And I try to avoid saying it.

My friend Heather is not doing well. As in, it's getting close to the end. Her second opinion ended up being the same as her first. Aside from the research drugs, there was nothing that they could do. Then her doctor's at Johns Hopkins said she wasn't a candidate for the drugs because her tumor was too large, too advanced.

My brain gets stuck on that point. That's it? There's nothing more that they can do? I don't understand how with all the research, all the experiments, all the money that is poured into cancer research, and there's nothing they can do.

Sometimes I wonder if they're really trying to find a cure at all.

Heather's in hospice, on a 24/7 morphine drip, and isn't accepting visitors at this point. I was seriously contemplating driving back to PA to see her this week. And a very selfish part of me is glad that decision was made for me. The last time I saw Heather was when we met for breakfast. She was still eating, she was still laughing, she was still alive. I don't know if I could stand to see her lying in a hospital bed, dying. Cowardly of me, yes? I'd like to believe that if she wanted me there, I'd move heaven and earth to make it happen. But I have to be honest and admit that I'm selfishly relieved I don't have to see her like that.

Our friends who keep me updated keep saying to keep praying. To believe that He is a God of miracles, and that there's still a chance He can heal her. I do believe that- to an extent. But not in Heather's case. I think I knew from the moment she told me she had liver cancer that she would die. Does that make me unfaithful, or a realist? I tend to look at things in a black and white perspective. I tend to believe the worst... to prepare myself for the worst so I can handle it when the inevitable comes. And then if the worst doesn't happen, well.... then I'm gladly proven wrong. But not caught unprepared. And even though I want to believe with all my heart that He's going to swoop in and save her... I cannot bring myself to pray for something that I honestly, truly, don't believe is going to happen. And I think He understands that. At least, I hope He understands.

That being said- I know that she's soon going to be out of pain. That she'll be with her mom again. That she'll be healthy and whole. Heck, maybe her and Emily can even have a few laughs at my expense. In the end, whether He heals her or not... either way Heather wins. I'm not worried about Heather. I'm just sad for her family, sad for her friends, and horribly sad for myself.

I am so tired of saying goodbye to the people I love.

A month of Thanks ~ convienence

These days of thanks aren't in any specific order of importance, by the way. Just what happens to pop in my mind.

Today I'm thankful that I now live within less than ten minutes of.... everything! Wal-Mart, Petsmart, the grocery store, the mall, the movie theater, Zaxby's (my new favorite fast food place. Which is probably dangerous that it's so close...)

Perhaps that's a silly thing to be thankful for. But as I was going to Petsmart yesterday to pick up some food for my fish, I was thankful that this wouldn't be the normal 45 minute to an hour excursion. When I really started thinking about it, I realized that I don't think I've ever lived this close to convienence. Even when we were in Alabama, everything was a 20 minute drive. Same as living in Greencastle. So this whole being less than ten minutes away is quite a novelty.

I'm sure I'll start to take it for granted eventually. Lauren and Rachel both looked at me like I lost my mind when I was practically giddy about how close Wal-Mart is. What can I say? I don't get out much. :)

A month of Thanks ~Autumn

I like spring, but it is too young. I like summer, but it is too proud.
So I like best of all autumn, because its leaves are a little yellow, its tones mellower, its colors richer, and it is tinged a little with sorrow.
Its golden richness speaks not of the innocence of spring,
nor of the power of summer,
but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age.
It knows the limitations of life and is content.

Lin Yutang

Today I am thankful for autumn. I love this time of year. I love curling up with a blanket and a comfy sweatshirt. I love being able to use the fireplace. My mouth starts watering for pecan pie and pumpkin flavored breads. I even love the smell of autumn. Somehow the air is crisper. I will admit that the colors here in South Carolina cannot quite compare with the brilliant reds and oranges of Pennsylvania. The colors are a little more muted, a little less brilliant, and I find myself longing for a glimpse of the mountains. But that being said, the view outside my bedroom window is still beautiful. My room looks out over a small pond in the backyard. The morning sun hits my side first, and the yellow leaves reflecting on the pond is still quite beautiful. And I am loving the 65-70 degree weather in November!

Someone once told me they hated fall because it marked the approach of winter, and that soon everything would be dead and cold. I've never looked at fall that way. I guess perhaps the leaves are dying in a sense, but not the tree itself. I look around at the colors and think that there is beauty even in the dying. The fading colors send a promise that winter doesn't last forever, and spring will be here before you know it.

So today I am thankful for autumn. For the beauty that I see all around, for the holidays that are coming up, and for the promise that each season is not forever.

A month of thanks

We went to the mall over the weekend, and the Christmas decorations are already making an appearance. I've even heard a Christmas jingle on the TV once or twice. I'm not ready for this yet. I love Christmas. It's my favorite time of the year. But seriously, starting in October? It's just depressing. And this year isn't going to be an easy one. With my job situation still up in the air, I'm trying to think of what to do about gifts this year. And if I have a job by December, I'm wondering if I'll be able to take enough time to go back to Pennsylvania for Christmas. And if I don't have a job, will I be able to afford going back. Lauren got some not so great news about her job and she's worried about what she's possibly going to do next. Needless to say, Christmas spirit is definitely not in the air in this household quite yet.

What bugs me more about this time of the year is that Thanksgiving seems to get lost in the shuffle. In the midst of the looming commercialism of Christmas, the memories of Emily that are hardest this time of year, and the somewhat gloomy outlook... I've already completely overlooked the upcoming holiday.

So in a conscious effort to be thankful for what I do have, I'm going to try and post at least one thing I'm grateful for everyday throughout the entire month.

Here goes #1:
I'm thankful for the opportunity to have a "new" start. Moving here has been something I've wanted to do for years. The "unknown" is still somewhat scary. I still have no idea what the future's going to bring, but I'm thankful to be here. Thankful that I have this opportunity to try and see what happens.