Rainbows and Resolutions

We discovered that our tent was in the lowest part of the campground after the first night. We moved everything out of our tent and attempted to dry it off with our beach towels in the bright morning sun. This set the stage for the remainder of our honeymoon, in which each day followed suit with a night-time rainstorm and beautiful days spent drying everything out again. We had an air mattress to sleep on, so at least we could keep ourselves dry. It was not the honeymoon we would have signed up for.  Many people might have considered it ruined, or bickered about who's idea this was. Many would probably have even cut it short. But we made fun memories that week. We made the most of the sunshine with deep sea fishing and sunning on the beach. When we talk about that little vacation, even memories of those rainy nights make us smile, because it was all part of a grand adventure.

After the last few months, this Christmas season was very much like the rainbow after a heavy rainstorm. I would say this has been the most enjoyable Christmas ever. It was very relaxing and drama-free. We isolated ourselves, just our immediate family, and did not succumb to the pressures of the expectations of others. It felt like we were on vacation. Instead of getting all stressed out trying to please people we only see at holidays, we focused on spending quality time with those who love us all year long. It may be controversial, but I think this is how it should be.

I'm not much for New Year's Resolutions. In the past I have enjoyed telling people that my resolution was to quit smoking. The idea was that someone would say "but you don't smoke", so I could reply, "exactly, so this resolution is sure to be a success!" Nobody really caught on, though, and that conversation never actually happened the way I imagined it would.

This year I have a good one. I'm not calling it a resolution, though - more of an objective. My objective for this year is to stop looking for validation and approval from others. I think this is where I went wrong over the last year. I have given people too much power over me in that way, and now I'm taking it back.

My hubby said it best, without saying a word, when he gave me one of my Christmas gifts - a 13.1 magnet for my car. With that gesture, he gave me all the validation and approval I needed. He told me he was proud of me, and made me feel proud of myself. I don't need validation from anyone else. I already have it from those who love me all year long. I love my family. They are where my heart is. <3

Peace

We walked outside and looked up at the giant expanse of stars. Their abundance and clarity took my breath away. It is amazing what you can see without light. In town where we live now (the "city" as I call it, though it really isn't), we would never see so many stars with the intrusion of street lights and other light pollution. But when we lived in the cabin in the mountains, set apart from the rat race, we could see this on any clear night. On this occasion, my husband was pointing out things he had been learning in his "Observing the Summer Sky" class. He really enjoys sharing what he has learned, especially if it's science or nature. Sometimes, today I long for a place to go where I can have such a clear view of that vast, peaceful, breathtaking, sparkling, night sky. It's still there, I just need to step away from the distractions to find it.

When I had the panic attack, I felt like I was pinned down to my chair. We were in a prayer meeting (we have those where I work). Everyone had just bowed their heads to pray and it hit me hard. I had an overwhelming urge to flee. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I kept opening my eyes to try to push away the images that were flooding my mind. Images of a crime I never witnessed, but heard too much about. I don't know what was said in the prayer meeting because I was too busy fighting - really fighting. Tears were rolling down my cheeks even though my eyes were squeezed shut as tightly as I could squeeze them. It was terrifying.

Almost a week ago I had a similar, yet opposite experience. I was visiting a church that one of my boot camp friends goes to and they were singing songs. (Fun fact: all music is a capella at that church. No instruments.) I didn't know the songs but something in the words hit me. Something about God's Son dying. It was the realization that, through all my anger and grief over that little girl being killed in our neighborhood, God not only knew how I felt, but how her mother felt. He knew exactly what it felt like to lose a child. I couldn't say to God, "but You don't understand!" And I wasn't alone.

I felt like all that weight was lifted off of me and I felt like I could just melt into a heap in my chair. I didn't want to run, but I was fighting tears. I really didn't want anyone to see me and think I was crying because I didn't like their singing. It was a healing moment for me. I felt like I was able to let it go and move forward.

Christmas is just over a week away and my prayer is that Skylar's mother is surrounded by love and peace and all the happy memories she has of her little girl, who's spending this Christmas in heaven.

Grasshopper

I walked out to the end of the dock with the "battleship" I had made by hammering nails into scrap pieces of wood. In my other hand was a poor, unsuspecting grasshopper, struggling to free himself from my grasp. I knelt on the dock and reached down to place the battleship on the water, then set the grasshopper on top to captain his new ship. It took a few tries to convince my little friend to stay on board - it could have been exhaustion that finally won him over. After all, an insect is no match for an eleven-year-old tomboy on a mission. I laid on my stomach on the dock and gave the ship a gentle push, then rested my chin on my hands while I watched it drift away. I would have supplied the captain with oars had I thought he'd appreciate the gift, but I knew better. His path was now up to the wind and chance.

This year has been full of very high highs and very low lows. I've experienced the exhilaration of setting and reaching big goals. I've faced, though not necessarily conquered fears. I've been horrified by a neighborhood tragedy that introduced me to my first bout of real depression, and my first real panic attack. I've had friends who endured, friends who only passed through, and friends who were never real to begin with. The best times always had to do with my family and my friends - the real ones.

The worst times always came down to my search for control in an out-of-control world. People say it all the time. Life is messy. For some reason, when I hear that, the version of "messy" that comes to my mind is more like a kitchen after a baking spree. A mess that is obviously going to result in something wonderful that is already starting to smell delicious. A mess that a little time and elbow grease will clean up good as new. In reality, life's messiness is not nearly as fun. There may be disappointment, heartache, pain, and devastating loss. It does not smell delicious. It usually stinks.

I've struggled with my faith a lot over the last year. I've been angry at God, angry at people, and often angry at myself. While I'm told - and I know deep down - that God is in control and that He knows where all of this is going, I have been constantly battling the nagging question, can He really be trusted?

He is consistently holding on to me while I've been struggling and fighting against Him every step of the way. I'm sure that, in His own way, he's whispering to me, "be still little Grasshopper, I've got you."