Plus a lesson learned.
As for my moments ....
33. Making 2 on-scheduled flights on a crazy, winter-storm-approaching day, when most flights were cancelled. And then extra grateful when we found out that we were the last plane that was allowed to land in Houston that February night.
34. The very rare freezing, yet refreshing air that welcomed us in Houston (because Houstonians are used to stepping out of the cool air in the plane and having the heat and 142% humidity smack us in the face on our first step onto the jetway).
35. A day to sit at home, enjoying books, recorded shows and catching up on things .... in comfy, warm sweats (also a rarity in Houston).
36. The buzz of my cell phone, revealing the text "I love you" from one of my children.
37. Coming back home to 2 healthy teenage boys AND a clean home. :)
38. "One Thousand Gifts", more grateful than I can say about this life-changing book (at least it was for my life.
39. "A Holy Experience", Ann Voskamp's blog
40. All of the lovely women who read the book and participated in the book club discussion. And also the ones who share on Ann's blog. I'm grateful for the things I've learned, the compassion that continues to grow for these "sisters" in yearning to find thanks, joy and a full-hearted life.
And speaking of thanks, joy and a full-hearted life, last night I watched a video that a friend (thank you, Robin!) recommended to me after she read my latest update on Facebook.
You see, yesterday was a difficult day. It didn't start out that way. I woke up happy that it was Easter and the day we celebrate the event when Christ shook his fist in Satan's face and said, "I won!" The day that death became something altogether different. It went from something to be feared and dreaded and soul-killing, as well as heartbreaking ...... into something called "hope".
Don't get me wrong ..... I know, as do most of you, that death still sucks, it's still heart breaking, it still kills parts of the people left behind ..... but behind all of that, maybe not at first, but once the blackness lightens into grey ..... there is hope.
Hope that I will see Jim again.
And honestly, my hope is more than hope .... it's a grateful knowledge.
So anyway, Jim's death has taught me many things. I fear very little in life, I say "I love you" more often and to more people.
And I am learning to be vulnerable. It's much easier for me now ..... now in my "after". Because really, what do I have to lose by laying myself wide open to someone? Seriously? After having lost my everything .... what else is left?
I'm not saying it's easy, because it isn't, but it is easier. In my "before" life, I was too private to be vulnerable. And by that, I mean .... too prideful. And too afraid. Because we all know what happens many, many times if we are vulnerable. We feel the debilitating pain of rejection, humiliation, heart-brokenness. And so we grow a thicker wall around our heart and we become less and less likely to be vulnerable. It's called self-preservation.
Well, though it's not easy for me ..... I still struggle with the "what ifs". What if I'm rejected? What if there's no response? What if I look like a complete and pathetic idiot?
But I have learned, and am continuing to learn .... because of Jim's death ..... that what other people may think of me ..... doesn't matter. It's what God thinks .... and it's what I think.
Yesterday, as the day went along, I started feeling blue. Blue turned into grey ..... and I cried. I thought I was crying for one certain reason. But then it hit me .... out of the grey .... that I was sad about an altogether different reason. A fact that shocked me. A fact that I didn't want to admit, let alone admit was true.
And so I thought about being truthful with someone. With being vulnerable. But that part of me argued with the other part of me. "Don't do this. You WILL be rejected. You'll look pathetic. And you WILL feel pain." The other part of me responded, "Life is too short. I need to be honest. I need to be open with what I feel. Who knows what the response might be? It might be very good. And I NEED to be vulnerable. It's like a part of me that I can't fight against. No matter the response."
And so, after having that psychotic argument with myself for a while, I bit the bullet. I put myself out there. I was vulnerable. And I suddenly felt so much better. The grey lifted immediately once I had done it. And yes, I knew that the response could be bad. In fact, I didn't have much hope in getting the response I would have liked. But funny ..... that didn't matter. What mattered was that I had done it. And I felt good about it. No matter what.
The result? Utter 100% rejection. And maybe a bit worse than out-right rejection .... rejection by complete silence. No response .... good or bad. Just silence. A deafening silence.
And .... I'm ok. Yes, I felt sad last night and shed a few tears, but not for the rejection. The tears were for what "might have been". Not for me. Not for feeling humiliated or weak or stupid. I still felt good that I had been honest with my feelings. Jim's death taught me that. Be honest with how I feel. Tell people that I love them, even if they don't say it back (but most do). Always say "I love you" when saying "Good-bye". Leave no doubt.
None.
So here's the video that my friend shared with me, after learning about my day (though not the details).
I want to share it with you because it's so very, very true. And it's something that we all need to know. Not just those of us who have learned it in a very hard way.
I hope you like it.
Happy Monday, Peeps.
:)
3 comments:
Thank you for that! I needed to hear that! Love you so very much!
I loved the video, I needed to hear it over and over again. Thank you for sharing the video and your feelings with us. It helps more than you could ever know!
That was such a wonderful video - thank you!
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