Nobody Warned Me: Moving forward to a New Beginning

"... but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." 

— Philippians 3:13-14

June 1, 2015: Two weeks after we buried my mom, today we buried my dad. His service was beautiful and so appropriately him. Thank you to all who attended, who sent well-wishes, and who participated by sharing their stories. I laughed, and I cried.

And a very special note of thanks and awe to Chuck Alexander (Insufficient Funds/First Presbyterian Church)— your voice astounds me, and the way you sing "I Bowed on My Knees and Cried Holy" is like no version I have ever heard before. (I think you do it better than Michael English.) That was exactly, exactly the way my dad would have loved it. I cried with gratitude as you sang.

****

I knew this time would come. The day in the chapter of this story in which both my parents were gone, at least in this life.

I just didn't know they would pass so closely together — or at such young ages. As I've shared before, I thought my mother would live long past my dad. I feared she would suffer for a long time from losing him.

Mercifully, that is not the case.

I suppose God, Mom and Dad decided that Jimmy and Nicki should continue to be together in Heaven. They were a team for 55 years. Why stop now? I believe Mom went first so she could show Dad the way.

Or something like that.

I wonder if my mother was beckoning my dad when he was standing between here and there? I would like to think so.

I could ponder these questions forever, and they would and will give me comfort and things to smile about.

But still, here Kim and I are with the true "now what?"

It seems obvious that after we have settled post-funeral tasks, the answer is to just get back to living life the way it was before. She goes home to her family and business — which she will — and I put my house back together and resume whatever it was I was doing before.

The thing is, I had kind of been in transition mode when this all occurred. I was enjoying a peaceful life of freelance newspaper work, house projects and traveling with Dorsey to his various work sites. It was the calm blessing before the storm.

And why wouldn't I want to live in Bend? WOW.

As much fun as I had on those trips, especially to Bend, Oregon, (twice, where I'd love to live), Northern California (twice) and to New York and Connecticut for Jordie's birthday last year, the past seven months of my life have been the most meaningful. They've been the hardest and most painful, too. Ever. (And I've put myself through ridiculous amounts of pain in my life — so much so that I could reign as Queen of Ungraceful Aging.)

The peaceful calm I had been blessed with provided space and time I had never before experienced to begin a personal transformation — to a physically, spiritually and emotionally healthier me. This had been a two-year strengthening process when the dam with my parents' health broke loose.

The blessed work that began in me — what is now three years ago — took off at breakneck speed. I can honestly say I will never be the same.

Neither do I want to be.

So ... here I am. A different, better and much stronger person. (And I'm sure my sister is, too, but she has her own story to tell someday, if she wants.)

I have choices I never had before. Some truly are new opportunities, and some I just never believed I had. I have a different mindset and a renewed faith.

I feel intensely grateful that God let me have that time with my parents so they could finally experience the healthy me. They got to die knowing I was exactly how God created me to be and that they always knew I could be. That's all they ever wanted for me. Thanks be to God for that gift!

I realized, too, in this journey, that of all the things I've ever strived for in my life — for all the things I've ever run myself insanely ragged — the last seven months gave me exactly all I've ever wanted, too — the same thing my parents wanted for me.

For whatever reason (and perhaps another story for another time), it took me an exceptionally long time (45 of my now 46 years, to be exact) to accept God's grace for me in all my imperfections and finally get my bearings. Accepting God's grace was the secret all along. Why it clicked for me when it did on that exact date in July of 2014 is something I still ponder.

So you know ... It takes what it takes —both to get you where you need to be and to keep you there. My blessed last seven months with my parents (and my sister) has been the catalyst to plant me where I need to be now and allow me to grow. I'd be a fool to turn back now, so I won't. My job now is to continue to respect and honor God and my parents in whatever I do from here.

God is good ... in ALL things. He can and has transformed every unfortunate or ugly or cruel or tragic circumstance in my life into something beautiful. (Romans 8:28)

10-80-10 Rule: Drop Your Shovel, part 3

Yes, it's true. You did need those lessons. You must have, or they would not have happened. Accepting that, rather than replaying the past again and again ... thinking somehow you can change it ...  is important to letting go of your past regrets and moving forward in the future. (I also happen to firmly believe that God does not waste ANY experience, good or bad ... what may have been meant for bad in this world, God can and will use for the greater good.)

But what about those people harmed by our experiences? What about those regrets? How can it possibly be okay to be okay when other people are not okay because of us? And how is it possible to move forward without forgiveness from the person(s) we have hurt? Seriously, doesn't their forgiveness absolve us? (No ... that's what God does ...)

I kind of think this might be the hardest part of moving on to a life we feel good about; returning to the shame and guilt of regret could send us right back into that hole to start digging again. We need to pay attention to letting go of regrets, for sure. 

So, let's start with some facts about what might be your current state: 

• You hurt someone(s), maybe really badly; maybe even irrevocably. 
• You have accepted God's forgiveness and can forgive yourself now. (It's been difficult, but you've done it.) 
• You've discussed those you've hurt (because you unloaded your dirt, remember?) with your new and wiser support system — you know, those who've "been there, done that." (Those are my favorite people, by the way.)
• You have decided —with those who are oh-so-wiser than you at this time — whom to approach to make amends and how to do it, if at all possible. (Your wiser ones will tell you that trying to approach some will only cause further damage. Be sensitive to and respect that.)

But also understand these important facts about where you are:

• Some people will accept your apology and your desire to make things right. They will welcome you back into their lives with open arms. They will be so thrilled to finally have you on the right track. (Yes! We love those people, and they love us!)
• Some people will accept your apology. They will, however, tell you to stay out of their lives — that they have no desire whatsoever to let you make things right. (Major disappointment.)
• Some people will in no way, shape or form accept your desire to make amends. They might even cuss you up one side and down the other. (That's just plain humiliating, but really, it now becomes their problem.)
• Others won't give you the time of day or the opportunity to make amends. (Period.)

Whatever happens, roll with it, even when it hurts. 

The greatest fact in all this — in my opinion — is that while we might wish everyone to see and believe the new and better us, it's just not going to happen. It's not, no matter how hard we try. In fact, sometimes the harder we try, the worse we make the situation. We must accept this and respect it to move on. 

It can be difficult to accept that you don't have someone's forgiveness; deep down, you wanted absolution, I know. Wasn't making amends supposed to make things and you all fine and good?

Regret: Drop Your Shovel, Part 2

Isn't that an uplifting quote? The amazing, wonderful thing about it is ... Fitzgerald is so right! I have been blessed to see this happen for many people I know, and I'm getting to experience it for myself, as well. 

It's a good thing, too, or life would look and feel pretty bleak.

In Drop Your Shovel, Part 1, I suggested that in spite of being young and dumb ... or even being old and in the middle of a midlife crisis (or, heck, maybe even both) ... and, therefore, making ridiculously bad and oftentimes life-changing decisions, we can stop digging the deep hole of despair and move forward.

Let's look at that ...

You've sought help from those who've been there and done that with their lives, and you've done all the things they've suggested for moving forward in a healthy, fulfilling, productive way.

You're seeing the blessings and experiencing true joy and happiness for the first time in years, it seems.

You are there.

But a nagging problem lingers: Regret.

Regret still sometimes seeks to destroy your newfound feelings of peace. Regret showers you with feelings of shame and guilt — the very feelings that took you deep into that dark hole in the first place.

Somehow, then, you have to make peace with your regrets. I'm sure you've heard and read this quote many times: "There are no regrets in life, only lessons learned."

That's definitely one perspective to take to make peace with regrets. The fact is, we all have done things we wish we had not, or we have done things we wish we had done differently. We are human, after all. Lots of times, we take those experiences, learn from them, and do better next time. Those are regrets that become lessons. We truly, truly need to let those go, especially if we were doing the best we could at the time, with the emotional, social and spiritual resources we had available to us.

Sometimes, however, our past behaviors have so negatively affected others that we truly HURT them. We didn't just hurt ourselves; we harmed someone or someones in some major, life-altering way.

Drop your shovel ... part one

"Everyone has chapters of their lives they would rather go unpublished." —Downton Abbey

I love that quote, because, oh, how I relate to that quote. Unfortunately.

I have several of those chapters ... Again, unfortunately.

Apparently, I'm a slow learner.

I think I've worked my way from an F to a B, though, so I'll share a few insights I've learned from my own bumpy journey. (Ah ... one of the beauties of aging.)

So sad, but so true.

I have spent sad, pathetic amounts of of time running from certain years of my life. I've ignored that they ever happened. I've buried them. I've even pretended they weren't there while I was in the middle of it all. Geez.

But of course those ingenious coping methods didn't work. They never do for long. Instead, running, hiding and ignoring only made things worse ... which resulted in more running and hiding. At least for me, anyway.

Vicious cycle, it is. (My inner Yoda.)

That vicious cycle inevitably produces feelings of guilt, utter loneliness, shame, fear, hopelessness, helplessness, disgust, anger, deep sadness and grief. Those feelings feel horrendous, especially when combined.

You don't have to wait to feel every single one of those feelings, you know. As my dad has always said, "You don't have to ride the elevator all the way down." (The rebel in me refused to listen to that sage advice.)