Melancholy Part 2 of 3 ~Faith~

Kame doesn't always appreciate what I'm trying to do when I place him in his water pan for his daily soak. Sometimes he fairly scrambles to get out of the water.

Silly turtle. What feels unfamiliar and perhaps uncomfortable is in fact a necessary part of his maintenance... so much like our own struggles in life.

In my last entry, I wrote about the need for something to cling to, and the choices we make. I wrote about the depression that has been my on-again, off-again companion for most of my life.

Someone asked me, several years ago, how I do it. How do I deal every single day with having a child with behavioral issues that have resulted in his removal from public school, a husband works sixty or more hours a week to sustain us, and the ongoing reconstruction of our 200 year old farmhouse after a tornado did extensive damage?

Fast forward a few years and add to the equation even more loss and the natural progression of my dear sweet daughter into a volatile, hormonal teenager, my insecurities regarding my recent return to college and the prospect of homeschooling our son in the fall, and the challenge, some days, seems insurmountable.

So how do I do it?

The first, simplest, and most obvious answer is faith. Faith in a God who is, as we say at our church "Good, all the time." Faith that everything will be all right in the end, and if it's not all right, it's not the end. Faith that there is a purpose, even when the filmstrip seems to be flying off the reel, snarling and looping and knotting into an impossible mess. Faith that what I see in this life is the back of the tapestry, with all its loose threads and knots... and that one day I will see the masterwork from the other side, and the amazing beauty God is weaving in and through me will be revealed. When the storm threatens to swamp me, I cling to my faith.

It would be dishonest of me to stop there, however. "Faith" is the easy answer, but there is another, more practical and down to earth answer, and it is the foundation upon which my faith has been built. To talk only about faith as a solution to life's problems is to work the illusion without ever revealing the conjurer's trick.

The purpose of this blog has been to support and encourage others facing their own dark times, and I know from experience that the short answer is just that... falling short, and imparting nothing but dissatisfaction and despair.

The reason I can face down every day is, I know it's not the worst. When you've fought a dragon, an angry grizzly bear doesn't look like such a frightening monster. When you've walked through the darkness, gone so deep into the pit that you've touched the cold, hard bottom, and risen again to feel the breeze against your face and the warmth of the sun against your skin, ordinary darkness no longer seems quite so black, and every-day cold doesn't have the power to chill quite as deeply. I can go on because I know, no matter how bleak things look, that there is a bottom, and the worst that can happen is that we'll reach that point. From there, as they say, you can only go up.

Faith is often thought to have a "foundation". Mine is rooted in the darkness of the past, but like the lotus blossom that grows from the depths of the dark pond, it has grown, stretching and reaching to the sun. It is, after all, the only way to bloom.

*~*~*

"Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. Selah"

Psalm 46: 2,3

Melancholy ~Part 1~

Will Kame ever wake up?

That question was on my mind yesterday, as I dug my little friend out of the mulch yet again. He is more active, surely, than he has been all winter. When I put him in his water pan, he will paddle around a bit, drinking deeply and soaking, before climbing out and seeking out his daily "salad" of spinach, boiled egg and berries... but he still will not come out to seek food and water on his own.

I am grateful each morning, when I check on Kame and he hisses in annoyance at me. I am grateful, every day, for the miracle of life, even in these days of melancholy.

What is it about early Spring that brings on this lethargy?
I know that a lack of sleep is contributing to the faint darkness that is trying to pervade my mind. Dreams... nightmares... leave me feeling, in the mornings, as if I haven't slept at all. I am implementing my coping strategies... taking time for myself, doing things I enjoy, exercising, meditating, praying, going to bed early, before I am over-tired... and yet the dreams come.

Perhaps it is because death has been on my mind recently. As new beginnings loom large... new possibilities, new vistas opening with new chances, new goals, and new challenges, I can't help looking back, at what's come before. Disappointments and failures litter the path behind me, obscuring the successes. How do I know I will not fail again? How do I know that this, this is the time that everything will fall into place, and my expectations will be met? How do I know I can do this? How do I know, when I'm faced with the choices that mean success or failure, I will choose success?

Loss is an old acquaintance of mine. It didn't take me long to understand that nothing in this life is permanent. Not things, not home, not family. There is not one single thing this life can give you that can't be ripped away again. Success? It can disappear overnight. Reputation? Destroyed in an instant. Relationships? Misunderstandings, choices, and death can shatter and steal them. Safety is an illusion. Life is loss. All that is left to us is a choice: What will we cling to, when everything else is gone?

~*~*~

TBC...

Changes

Kame is an intrepid soul. He seems to have decided the stairs are his Mt. Everest, and he's determined to defeat them... from above. My fear for my little friend's safety means I must deter him from making such a treacherous leap, but that doesn't mean he won't come back and try again and again. I fear if Kame ever does succeed in his attempts, he will suffer irreparable damage. A turtle's shell is a vital part of his skeletal structure. I must be diligent in keeping him in check, although I am sure he resents being returned to his safe abode.

In ten days I will begin my college career. To say that I am nervous would be perhaps the boldest understatement ever made.

Did I mention that I'll be working in a program that allows an individualized learning plan, a combination of traditional classroom, online courses and one-on-one tutoring in which I'm expected to design my own path to a degree? Oh, and by the way, next year Arek and I will be homeschooling. To top the mountain off with a beautiful snow-cap... Ken has accepted a job with Homeland Security as a State Fire Instructor, a job which adds 20 hours a month to his already hectic schedule.

Just to recap: College. Homeschooling. Second job.

It's quite a heavy load to lay on a marriage that has already cracked once. A lot of strain to put on the still-healing scars of the past. I haven't been sleeping well, thinking about the possibilities, and remembering. Remembering the long nights when Ken was volunteering more of his time to the Fire Department, the resentment as I fell into what felt like a single-mother role, the strain and the snapping at one another, the lack of communication, the ruts we fell into, undercutting one another, the anger that built up until it bubbled up through the fissures and very nearly broke us apart.

We broke under the pressure once, and... if I am honest with myself, I know it could happen again. I hope that we have learned something from our experience. I believe we have. We communicate better these days. I am far less quick to whip out my "Whatever.", a code-word for "Fine. Do what you want. I'll make do, but I won't like it." Ken is better at listening, and being honest about his own feelings as well.

I sometimes want to herd us away from the danger, to avoid challenges for fear we could fall. I want to protect what we're rebuilding. I want our marriage to work. It's easy and comfortable in our safe little place... and if we stayed here we'd stagnate.

Life moves forward, with or without our consent. We must go with it, or be swept away.

Rejoicing in the day,
-Mary

*~*~*

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

-The Hobbit, J.R. Tolkien

~*~*~

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door,' he used to say. 'You step onto the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.'"

-Fellowship of the Ring, J.R. Tolkien

Forgiveness

Slowly, slowly, Kame is waking up. He still needs to be dug out and shown his food, placed in his pan of water, reminded to eat and to drink, but he is more alert, more active, for short periods of time. As the days grow longer and the mercury in the thermometer begins to edge higher, he is remembering that winter does not last forever, and spring is coming. He is coming out of hibernation and remembering what it's like to be alive. He is awakening.

Sometimes I have felt as if the path we've been on would never end. An arctic wasteland seemed to stretch out in front of me as we struggled to piece our marriage, and our family back together. We were wandering through Narnia, where winter is eternal and Christmas never comes.

Then, one day, a flower broke through the snow. There was a moment, looking into my husband's eyes, that I saw him soften, saw the ice melt just a bit, saw the faint sparkle of the old humor, the understanding and acceptance, the fun. The first crack had taken hold, and the ice couldn't keep together.

I think that life is nothing more, and nothing less, than a series of choices. Over a year ago, I stood at a crossroads, and felt that the choice I made would direct the rest of my life. Since then, I've stood at many crossroads, and made many choices, each of which has sent my life, our lives, in new directions. No one choice has been irrevocable. No one decision has changed my life so much that I can't go back and choose another direction.

In a few weeks' time, I will begin college classes. Twenty years ago, I left college and never looked back. Now I am standing once more on the threshold of education, wondering where the springboard of a degree will take me. How high will I be able to jump? Will I finally reach my goals? I have grown and changed, but I have carried my dreams along with me like a satchel. Some things are just too precious to leave behind.

A year ago last Thanksgiving, I thought my marriage was ending. I believed we were destined to break apart like glass shattered on the rocks of betrayal and disappointment. I believed a part of my life was over, that the lightning strike had destroyed us.

Over a year later, the first cautious buds are emerging. New growth is appearing where only charred, smoking ruin lay frozen in the ice. The early flowers are poking brave tendrils up through the snow, putting on an occasional burst of color and fragrance, unafraid of the frost and the chill still in the air. Spring is approaching. Life is new. Forgiveness is settling on our shoulders like a comfortable blanket, warming the chill away and reminding us how good it is to stand in the sun, basking and warm.

Spring is coming, I can feel it, and it is good.

Rejoicing in the day,
-Mary

"Forgiveness comes after a long time. After a long and gentle rain of tears. The earth is soaked and the smell of springtime is in the air. New life will come."
..."I have forgiven today, which could not help but come. I have forgiven yesterday, which could not help but pass. I will forgive tomorrow, too."

-Walk Softly, Rachel, by Kate Banks

Loss

Kame isn't much bothered by being alone. He travels along, bound for wherever turtles believe the grass is greener, on the other side of the lawn in this case.

It was a rare warm late-fall day. Kame had explored several areas of the yard before taking off across the lawn as if he knew exactly where he was going and just how to get there.

For a moment, he paused, basking in the sun and seeming to contemplate his surroundings, to orient himself and decide just where to go next. I wonder if he felt alone, although I wasn't far away. I wonder, in that moment, whether he felt lost, or if he was just taking a moment to consider things.

We all suffer loss at some point in our lives. Some losses are great, and some are small, but when we are traveling through that grief, the worst feeling in the world is to feel alone, lost and forgotten in a big, wild world. If we are lucky, friends and family are close enough to offer comfort, but loss, at its heart, is a lonely emotion.
We must each learn to deal with it in our own way, often in the quiet, dark room after everyone has left us, when we lie down and hold a pillow tight, and let the tears fall.

Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote in his poem; In Memoriam:27, 1850:

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

The famous lines have become cliche, but do they still ring true? Is it better to love, to feel the depth of the joy and passion and longing, knowing... knowing it can be ripped away at any moment, whether by death or by circumstance or by the simple changing desires of the human heart?

That is a question I am still trying to answer. Even with the ongoing repairs and rebuilding of my marriage, there is loss, something precious that was broken in this process, something I do not know if we'll ever fully recover.
I sometimes find myself grieving for that first, untainted love, the knowledge that this man, this one, is the one I'm meant to spend the rest of my life with, knowing in five years, in ten, in twenty, barring tragedy, he will be at my side. As time goes on, I've come to realize that what I truly lost was a sense of security, of surety in our future. What I lost was never really mine to begin with.

Even a promise sealed with solemn vows, with good intentions and with an honorable spirit, can be broken. 'Til death do us part really means until I change my mind... until I fall in love with another... until I decide this commitment is too difficult, and I want something different... until one of us decides that what we have is no longer worth the pain and the struggle and we let go, trading in our first love for freedom, and a second chance at what we think we're missing out on.

There came a point in my marriage at which I had to make a choice; to stay or to go. At that time, I decided that no matter what happened, I would not be the one to leave. Making that decision was painful, because it meant accepting that I could not stop my husband from leaving, if he so chooses. My commitment does not bind him.

Though the pain and fear have been severe at times, this experience has taught me that sometimes letting go is the stronger choice. Sometimes not holding on is the real test of your commitment. Sometimes you have to let go of someone and let them be the one who chooses to stay. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but a promise given unasked is stronger than the one brought about by a demand. I feared his choice, but I knew I had to accept it. I took a chance, choosing to believe in the character of the man I married, choosing to believe he would stay. It turned out to be the right choice for us, and we are stronger for it.

There are miles to go before we sleep, but our steps are guided by a higher Hand, and I know we are moving in the right direction.

Rejoicing in the day,
-Mary

~*~*~

"I cried when I knew I'd lost you, afraid I had lost it all. Then I realized that losing you didn't have to mean I lost me."

Descending

Kame is resting this morning. He's more active since he's coming out of his semi-hibernation state. He eats when I offer him food, but does not yet come out looking for food on his own. He still needs my support.

I love my little friend, and I will take care of him, for as long as it takes, but I hope that sometime soon he will come out and rejoin the world once more.

This picture was taken last summer, while we were camping near the New York State Fire Academy, where Ken takes some of his classes. The stairs ascend into a gorge, where a waterfall tumbles into a peaceful pool. It is an amazing and beautiful place, and I hope we will return again when the days are lazy, long and warm.

This has been, as a friend wrote on my Facebook wall, a "craptastic" week. The details are unimportant, but the damage was devastating. The week began with a shower of pebble-sized irritants, but by Tuesday evening the roar crashed down, sweeping me off my feet and taking me by complete surprise. It was a full-blown landslide.

I spent most of Wednesday digging out from under the emotional debris, clinging to the lifelines of family and friends. Thursday I had re-emerged, dusty, injured, but alive. Friday was spent re-orienting to the unnatural feeling of standing in the sun, and beginning to think of the practicalities of rebuilding.

Devastation never lasts. It comes upon us, buries us with its tumbling, roaring noise, overwhelms us and sweeps us off our feet like a tornado laying waste. In the moment, it can seem as if the world has cracked apart, broken beyond repair, and that there will never be light or warmth again... But often, after the rumblings die down and things have settled, the sun comes out, shining with almost obscene cheer, reminding us that now the disaster is over and life, such as it is, must go on.

Standing in the sun, we are left with a choice. A tree is laying over our roof, the yard is littered with the debris the storm left behind. Injuries must be tended, unstable structures must be shored up, and the plans for recovery must begin. It all begins with a choice: Move on, and leave the devastation behind in hopes of building elsewhere, or take an honest assessment of the damage, make plans, gather resources and rebuild.

I have chosen, and will always choose, to rebuild. That's what you do in a family.

Rejoicing in the day,
-Mary
~*~*~
I think the only cure for the brokenness of this world is Truth. Use it carefully, and shine its light wherever you go.

Life is Messy

Sometimes, life is just messy. Like when Kame enjoys a fat, juicy blackberry. Especially when I've had a particularly difficult day (week... month...), and I comfort myself by cuddling with him. Especially when I don't much care what he does as long as he's happy... and eating a large, juicy blackberry is just about the happiest thing a turtle can do.

There's something good about the simple way Kame relishes his food, especially food that pops with juice as he bites into it. He seems to take delight in the squishy fruit, grabbing mouthfuls and biting down so that before long his entire beak is covered in sweet black juice. There is something innocent, something pure, in that kind of enjoyment.

Sometimes life gets messy too.
I quite often have higher expectations of people than they are able to live up to. People make mistakes. People fail. People let me down.
I have higher expectations of myself than I am able to live up to. I make mistakes. I fail. I let people I care about down.

The very nature of Man is flawed... we came from dust, and to dust we shall return. At the same time, we carry with in us the very breath of God... we are only jars of clay, but inside is a treasure so precious it cannot be bought at any price but had to be purchased with the blood of absolute innocence, the sacrifice of a Lamb. This is the greatest irony of life; the mixture of good and evil within Man, and the reason a certain song resonates with my soul: "The only thing that's good in me is Jesus."

This week my son, my precious, beautiful, clever and often wise-beyond-his-years son, had his usual array of moods, swinging from absolute joy and lighthearted fun to raging tempers to unshakable calm, sometimes within the space of an hour. The mood swings and companion behaviors have created a roller coaster... and all I could do was hold on and pray the safety bars held.
I expect that if my son cares about his family, he will control his behavior. When he does not control his behavior, I am exasperated, hurt, bewildered, angry, frustrated and grieved... all because I expect more from a ten year old boy than some adults are able to accomplish in a lifetime- self control.

In the midst of the turmoil with Arek, I got involved in an online game with acquaintances. It seemed like a fun way to exercise creativity, explore characterization and get to know people better who have interests similar to mine. It turned out to be a mistake. I expected people to feel the same way about my favorite fictional characters that I feel. I expected them to understand and know the individual characters intimately. I expected them to understand me, in a very short period of time, and to behave the way I thought they should. When my expectations weren't met, I was wounded, confused, and upset.

This week my expectations were the cause of unnecessary pain, for myself and my family and my friends. Some expectations are good and fair and reasonable... others, are not. Learning to discern between them is, perhaps, what our time on this earth is for.

Rejoicing in the day,
-Mary

~*~*~
"One of the most subtle burdens God ever puts on us as saints is this burden of discernment concerning other souls. He reveals things in order that we may take the burden of these souls before Him and form the mind of Christ about them. It is not that we bring God into touch with our minds, but that we rouse ourselves until God is able to convey His mind to us about the one for whom we intercede."

-Oswald Chambers

~~~
In other words... We do not pray for others' benefit. We pray so that we might learn what God wants us to learn regarding others, and how we might go about showing them compassion.
I have so much to learn.
-Mary