Resolutions

February 19, 2018

January 1, 2018, I set out to gain fresh perspective on life and myself. What’s holding me back from allowing myself to be great?To be seen?To lose weight?To be more mindful?What is standing in my way?

I decided that i would ask 100 of my friends ( both close and social media-cultivated) what their goals were for 2018! What might stand in their way and what practices did they have in place to help them be successful? The responses were astounding. The depth and the willingness to share made me blush with delight and honor. Someone else sharing their truth with me is not something I take lightly. I was shocked,that in this time of everyone being super busy, they responded to my plea and that they gave such beautifully honest responses.

To those that shared with me I am completely grateful.

What I learned from this project went against everything I had assumed to be true. I was under the impression that

everyone else was better prepared for life, had their $hit together, was adulting better than us, was more fiscally sound, and more motivated to meet goals. I was wrong and secretly overjoyed! We are all all in this together. We are all trying our best to manage time, focus on the things that matter in life, become more financially stable, physically fit, and spiritually healthy.

Most of all, I took such comfort in hearing from so many people that they longed for a closer relationship to God ( as they understand Him) and that they wanted to focus more time in the day devoted to practicing prayer, study, or meditation.

Weeks past and it was coming into February. I thought how can I make this all tie together nicely. What does all this feedback mean? “WGASA” Who Gives A $hit Anyways (thank you Aunt De).

As life would have it, I didn’t have time to sit and figure this all out. This past week quickly unfolded into a blur of tragedy and sadness. Our Niece, Reese, died on Tuesday morning after living her short 4 months of life fighting for her every breath. My father’s 97 year old cousin, Buddy, died hours prior to Reese, after a long life of “hold your breath” laughter and sarcasm. Then a childhood friend and classmate of mine, Mark, died one day later, after also fighting for his every breath, 7 of his 40 years battling cancer. In the midst of these personal losses was the news of another school shooting, friends losing parents, the church losing another parishioner. So much loss in one week’s time.

In the late night hours following all of this loss it became clear. All of those answers that I received from my “friends” can’t compare to what these lives have just taught me through their dying.

We buried our infant niece, this past Friday morning,after a long police motorcade shut down parkways and streets to escort her safely. The ultimate send off to a beautiful soul that fought harder to live her life than most will ever fight in an 8 decade lifetime. Two doves flew free from their cage as her brother and young parents laughed and waved into the distance. None of it makes sense right now. Their lives will forever be marked by this loss, but more so, by this gain of having witnessed such beauty and strength in their lifetime.

Our family has endured the loss of a child before. A loss that completely destroyed my brother and left him emotionally crippled. Profound loss followed by divine healing that rebuilt him from the ankles up. I have seen the pain that this loss can have on a family. The pain that doesn’t end, but just morphs over time. Having seen this before doesn’t make this any more imaginable or familiar to me now. The loss of a child in a family, in a community, it will never feel familiar. It will never feel natural.

After my nephew, Graham, died 6 years ago, I expected that in his honor I would forever be changed. I would live life to the fullest, be patient and not take anything for granted. However, a lot happens in five years to test ones patience and resilience. I have slipped back.

Now the night before we bid farewell to my 40 year old classmate, before I hug his young wife and toddler son, before I say “ I am so sorry for your loss” for the fifth or more time this week, I find myself pausing to really soak it all in.

What does it all mean? This life?

Weeks ago, one of my best friends, Sally Catlett, and I prepared to go visit our friend Mark as he was fighting his way through hospice. We grappled with this one question. What the hell do you bring someone that is living the last days of his life? So we asked his Wife. He requested snacks. Ok, what the hell snacks does a person living out their final days eat? Are they being sensible with their choices, with their sugar and their salt intake? Sally says”we better bring him chapstick”, because just the thought of the hospital is making her lips feel parched.

His wife responds, “Monster Energy drinks and junk food snacks.” That was the request. He wanted to eat like he was living. Like he was a normal man eating crap on a weekend while watching tv.

We happily obliged. Here is your bag of crap and chapstick in case your lips feel parched.

But what else could we bring to make him know that we cared? What would entertain or comfort a young man (with a young family) living with the fact that he was facing the end of his life?

Puzzles? Ugh? Board games? Oh Lord the boredom alone would end him.

I had just read that being creative is the best way to keep from being critical of ones self and others. So we brought art supplies and coloring books. Ugh.

He loved it or at least pretended to. He hid his energy drinks close to his bedside. He had a huge grin on his face. During that visit we saw him very much alive. Alive when he talked about his life, about recent adventures he completed on his bucket list. Alive when he talked about his Wife and how much he wanted to make sure she would have enough support. Alive when he talked about his 3 year old Son and the traditions he had made with him.

I wanted to ask him all my questions about New Years Resolutions. I wanted to know his opinion as if he was the wise old owl. Instead I asked him if he was scared. He squeaked out a breathy “only of what’s next”.

The three of us knew what was next on this earth. Mark fought his way through several more weeks.What comes next for him we can be certain…eternal life without pain and without struggle to breathe.

What comes next for his beautiful young family? We can only pray, hope, and support good things from here on out.

In the nights following Baby Reese’s burial and between Mark’s pending one, I have been tested. My sweet 5 year old, who only days before this witnessed her baby cousin be laid to rest, is throwing little fits, biting, and testing patience. Patience has never been my strong suit especially at night, early mornings, before lunch, and not before or after dinner.

I am trying hard to meet her with patience and grace. Tonight in the middle of the night Paige laid on my tummy after sneaking into our bed. I got up to use the bathroom and returned to a soaking carpet.”Oh $hit” I said out loud and I picked up the fallen glass tumbler and placed it back on the old bedside chair. I wanted to scold her. I kissed her instead. She said, “I need a new pillow there’s water on this one”. I wanted to scold her. But I flipped it over and laid down next to her. “I love you always no matter what”, I told her as I do a million times each day.

She asked “please snuggle me”.

I turned to face her. And I said, “I’m not mad but I want you to say sorry for spilling the water.”She repeated it in her tiny little NY accent and then snuggled in, completely unaffected.

It was 2 am. I was divinely inspired to write this blog finally. This night won’t stick out in her life as a moment of significance but for me it’s a night that a miracle happened. I allowed myself to react differently. I chose differently. I chose to react differently than my default setting to honor Reese and Mark.

So New Years Resolutions…. WGASA …..

This year, I will work hard to chose differently every time I want to cry out in anger at my kids. I will seek to hear their side of the story. I will listen patiently when they tell me about dreams and nightmares. I will bite my tongue when I am about to criticize my weight or my looks and be grateful that I am healthy instead.

I won’t rush to end snuggle time, because I know in my heart that my sister-in-laws, Brianna and Christy, would give a lifetime just to snuggle longer. They would give up everything to break up a fight between siblings and comfort each side.

I will not complain about another year getting older or a gray hair on my head because I know that it is a luxury my friend Mark would have traded places with me to experience.

I will not utter the words, “make time stop” or cry that my kids are “growing up too fast.” Because my niece and nephew will never get to experience their first taste of birthday cake or feel sunlight on their faces here on this earth.

I will not use words like “busy” to describe myself or my life. I will practice “busy being” instead of “ busy doing”. I do not want busy to be my legacy.

I will practice the “slowdown”.I will not say I don’t have time to read, or pray, or meditate, or grow closer to God. I know that all I have is time for this in my life. Without God, none of this life is worth living and none of it makes any sense.

Ok ,this will be hard. I will make efforts not to walk aimlessly In the aisles of the store filling my cart with crap we don’t need. Crap to fill up space in our already crap filled home, crap to fill up the space in my heart. Because Mark has taught me that at the end of my life the only things I’ll really long for is more time( and it’s seems also Monster Energy drinks and the crap I can eat like a teenager and not care about my health).

I will let myself off the hook for being late most days to drop the kids off, for having a messy car, for my kids buying school lunch everyday, for being heavier than I had expected, for taking an antidepressant, for being short tempered, for having messy closets and drawers,

for not always washing fruits and vegetables, for walking past a pet accident on the floor in hopes that Richie will clean it up. I will allow myself to be flawsome.

What I have realized through these lives is that it doesn’t matter if you are 97, 40, or 4 months old. At the end of our lives, all we want to know is that we mattered, that we had true connections, that people showed up and saw us for who we really are. On our last day we want to look in the face of a God that we have always made time for and finally be at HOME.