Waiting for the Light to Change

The red light. I waited anxiously for it to change. The list of errands for children, myself, and who ever else happened to squeeze in my life hung from the rear view mirror in front of me.

Something new caught my eye. Something I had seen thousands of times before. Yellow streams of fluttering leaves made a beautiful entrance beyond the lights. I was caught up in the wonder and beauty of this ordinary, common and frequent visitor. My attention soaked in the world that metamorphosized all around me. This beauty was all around me and I have been missing it all together - waiting for the light to change.

My life could be summed up in that simple act of waiting for the light to change. The lists of what I had to accomplish or had to become always hung in the rare view mirror of my mind. My life was either about what I had lost or what I was going to create. Moments would slip away unnoticed and discarded. They were uncomfortable to me because I was neither what I once was or what I was going to be. I saw my forward facing stance as ambition, determination, and perseverance. My backward glances I saw as reminders of what I was made of. This mental shuffling left little for the moments in between. I was uncomfortable in the moments. Minute after minute life slipped away unnoticed.

Facing motherhood and life alone meant that my list for the future cascaded in the damp memory of my mind. I am at a place without a map for my dreams and plans. Not because I am despondent or disillusioned but because I hadn't thought of this moment. This place is where dreams meet the past and the future is like the point at the edge of the world. There is nothing here but at the same time there is everything. I don't have a bucket list of plans. I am neither looking to the future to satisfy nor am I rummaging through the past to pacify. Instead I can enjoy filling an afternoon with bubbling pots of love ready to nourish. I can sit in an evening of prayers sent up to heaven by my children. I am content to watch the happy yellow winged trees make an entrance.

Poop for the Course

Last week I ran my first official 5k race.  I spent the past 3 months preparing for this race.  This included running 3 times a week and cross-training 3 times a week.  I tried to eat clean and maintain a healthy mind.  When the day came for the race my mother and my four children joined me with as much excitement and anticipation as I had.  Watching the other women I saw that  though we were on the same course we are not all running the same race. 

As I took hold of the first 10 minutes of the race a bird came out of nowhere and decided to poop what seemed like Niagara Falls on my leg.  I had a moment where I thought this is it.  I can't continue with this menagerie of diseases following down my leg.  The next thought pushed through.  If I can run the rest of the race with this vile stuff strolling down my leg I would have accomplished something even greater than I set out to.

Lately I have been struck with feelings of loneliness, grief and a general feeling of being overwhelmed.  I heard myself say over and over that I just want to get over these feelings.  I cried out to God to relieve me of these feelings. Not only did these feelings hang around but more worries seemed to accompany them as the days swept by.  I felt overwhelmed at the thought of raising four young children on my own and knowing that at the end of the day the responsibility falls solely on me.  Don't get me wrong my mother is a strong support and help to me.  But at the end of the day I can't expect her help the way you would with a spouse.  When I get help it is a privilege that I am very grateful for.

Another realization I had with separation and divorce was how much I looked to others to meet my desires.  I remember having this strong need to belong from an early age.  I tried to have my friends, family, children, and marriage fill this need.  As a result of my separation I recognized this time in my life as an opportunity to accept that my fulfillment and desires cannot be completely satisfied by others.  I have had to sit with desires for companionship and belonging amongst others and place them in the hands of God.  I recognized that God alone can completely fill these desires.  When I look to others to fill them I will always ask of them what they were not meant to give.

Like my race that was literally pooped on, I can't expect to go through this separation and not encounter some poop.  Sometimes the poop has to sit with you for a while.  At the end of the race I joined my family, drank lots of water and almost forgot to wipe the poop off my leg.  The thing that almost stopped me in my tracks became manageable in the end.

Mapping it Out

My life has taken some turns but God has it all mapped out.

Lately, I have felt like a ping pong ball being blown about out at sea.  One minute I'm happy with my renewed love of running and the sense of freedom it brings.  The next I'm saddened by the loss of dreams and the reality of separation.  These feelings stir an uneasiness in me because the one thing I crave is stability.

Going through a separation I experienced a myriad of emotions.  At first I felt this incredible weight lifted from my shoulders.  I felt renewed strength.  I breathed in air that was filled with hope for a better future for my children and myself.  People are always surprised when I say this because it seems like I didn't really care about my marriage.  The reality is the farthest thing from that statement.  What most people don't realize is that I grieved the loss of my marriage as I watched my husband slowly turn into a stranger over the past 4 years.  I grieved the loss of my marriage when I realized that improperly treated mental illness robs not only the sufferer but the rest of their family of any sense of security or peace.  I grieved the loss of my marriage when I realized that I had to make a choice that put safety and security on one end and marriage on the other.


Though I don't regret the decision to separate I am disturbed by the havoc it can spur in my life.  Dealing with custody and access issues are complicated especially when mental health issues are involved.  I find that I constantly have to find the balance between the health and safety of my children and consistent involvement with their father.  There is so much uncertainty in what you can expect from a situation that your mind is tempted to always to go beyond where you are comfortable.

Through this process I am hoping that God will show me which turns to take and which ones to avoid.  Right now that is all I can hope for.

I Write

I try to write.  The words come but the fear follows.  Worries about judgement settle near by.  And the words find their escape.  I am trying to be brave in this new world of mine.  I know it will be good - eventually.  But sometimes change can hurt.

There are moments when the bad is so bad I hurt all over.  Some days my beaten body carries me to my warm bed and I nestle beside my baby girl.  I look at her sweet lips pressed delicately together.  I watch her feather-like curls swirl this way and that around her round lovely face.  Kisses flow and our embrace tightens.  She is my Ella-Shilloh.

The past year and a half she has endured this treacherous life with me inside and out.  While I carried her my life endured pain that I never thought I could endure.  The horrid details are imprinted in a place I seldom visit anymore.  When she was born more pain followed and still kept following.  I tried to find peace in happiness.  Sometimes it was their waiting, other times they both escaped like runaway brides.

Lately I feel like my life is a race against time, money, and falling in over my head.  You get it. You've been there.  Maybe.  In the last three months I have gone through homelessness (for a short time), separation, and working outside of my home for the first time in a while.  My life became foreign to me.  My plans floated beside me out of the reach of my future.  The life of baking loaf after loaf of cinnamon bread, homeschooling, drop-ins, coffee breaks with the girls and diy-anything slipped by.

In three weeks I had changed my whole life and people couldn't recognize me anymore.  The honest truth is the hardest part about this brave new world of mine is not the separation, or the homelessness, or the work - it is the part where I have to find a new dream.

Here's the fear again.  Yet, I write.