Jesus, Chains, and Change

At the suggestion of my amazing friend, I've made a chain for 30 days to change a certain habit.  Everyday when I wake up, I take one link off because I made it through the previous day without doing my typical behavior.  It isn't anything grandiose like to quit smoking or drinking ... it's just a small behavior that has kept me from feeling pain.  In and of itself it's not bad.  It's why I do it that's bad.

It's been a curious exercise with my brain.  When I feel myself getting anxious or upset and wanting to do the thing, I have to close my eyes, breathe deeply, and repeat the word, "gratitude" over and over again.  It refocuses me enough to put my brain back on track.  I have a few seconds of wanting to revert to what my brain knows, but I marinate in the pain for a few minutes and I emerge a bit better.  Then I'm able to enjoy the moment.  Even despite the possible tears.

I have been taking long rides with my dog in the back, all windows/sunroof open, and music blaring.  Mostly overtly Jesus music.  And me and Jesus talk.  Sometimes I cry.  But mostly I just sing and enjoy the moment.  I've been through pain.  And God was always there.  But I only let Him be on the sidelines, occasionally waving to Him, but mostly playing the game without His input.  In the past I have had to work 10 Xs harder to change.  If I had included the God of the Universe, it would have been a much smoother transition.  I wouldn't be fighting His goodness...I'd be living inside it.  This time it felt too big to carry on my own.  I knew I couldn't really change without Him being an active and living part of everything I do.  I just couldn't carry it alone.  I have to let myself be held in every aspect of my life so I end up being a cocoon of Jesus.  Surrounded completely and totally in His love and truth.  Even the tiniest crack would send me back into that place of despair and "stuck-ness."

Practially, this translates to...I can't watch what I used to watch on Netflix.  I can't listen to all my music..some is simply off limits because I can feel it sucking the soul out of me.  I can't eat the junk or drink alcohol to excess and some of my previous friends have had to go.  I just simply can't afford the unnecessary baggage.

This clarity and reflection has given me an incredible amount of time.  I rearranged my living room (and woke up this morning totally confused because it was so different...me and Sadie stared confusedly at one another for a few minutes).  I've almost mastered a Chopin piece, I've read, I'm researching possible branches of my business, writing, working out more.  I'm a freakin' efficient, productive machine.

I have been saying, "I hate my life" in my head lately.  And out loud.  So God hears and I hear it on my tongue.  And we both pause and chuckle a little because we know it's not true.  But it feels true in the moment I say it.  I used to let that feeling control me ... I used to let it continue in its lie and I would end up feeling unworthy of anything good.  I've allowed myself to feel like a failure for so long, my brain is trained to go there.  I would look at other people and think that they deserved good things more than I did.

But the truth is, we are all bankrupt and deprived.  We don't deserve anything good.  The only reason we have good things is because God is good.

My pushy, wonderful friend told me last when I texted her that I felt incredibly sad to make a list of all the good in my life.  So.......the interaction I had with Graham's teacher, that my baby is alive to begin with, when my oldest hugs me because I've been crying, when he talks to me at night after we pray, when he sings while hanging his head out the window, when Graham helps me cook, when we all dance in the kitchen, when my boys sing Jesus loves Me, when I pick them up from school, when I drop them off at school and feel the intensity of my love for them, all things about my boys in general, when I do my single mom's devotion, when my family & friends let me talk about the same stupid topic over and over again, when my parents FaceTime me, when my clients text me that I did a great job, when I listen to Nichole Nordeman, when I listen to Marren Morris...(this is a very long list of music that makes me happy), when I take my Plexus and ItWorks supplements, when I use my Mrs. Meyers hand soap and laundry detergent cuz it smells so good, when I talk to a homeless guy on the corner, when I wave at my grumpy neighbor, when I clean a really dirty house knowing I have just made someone's life a little better, when I watch the sun rise and set, when I put on my Game of Thrones robe in the morning, when I water my plants, when I go to bed at night and don't want to turn my ringer off just in case I get a text from someone, when I hear a love song and it makes me cry, when I swing on the ridiculously long swing my dad hung in my backyard, when I shop on Amazon, when I drink a glass of wine with a good friend, when I eat a Vegan lunch with my Vegan friend, when I wake up in an empty house with my dog wagging her tail, when I run on the levy with my dog, when I write in the wee hours of the morning with a candle that smells yum (that is also Mrs. Meyers), when I read funny Memes, when my fingers run over the keys of the piano, when I do floor exercises and squats and pull ups, when I clean my house, when a friend texts to check on me, when I listen to a Podcast while scrubbing away, when I chat with my gamer friends, when I beat my family in Word Chums, when my boys are happy, when I imagine a man I love and who loves me snuggling with me when I go to sleep, when I drive my car that I freakin' love with the windows down singing at the top of my lungs like a lunatic, when I put on my favorite pair of yoga pants, when I pay bills knowing I only have money because He gave me the ability to make money, when I FaceTime my boys while they're at their dad's which alleviates my longing for them a little, when I diffuse oils, when I take hot baths, when I Marco Polo with people who love me, when I pray for my friends and family, when I go to Whole Foods, when I take that first sip of my French pressed coffee,  ... the list is endless.  He has knit me in behind and before.  There is no room for doubt anymore.  I won't be able to be the change I want to see in the world without Him.

I was talking to a friend who is going through a really hard time.  She feels lost and scared.  And all I could say to her was I knew God was good ... other than that, I don't know crap.  (Though I said a lot more crap. Firm eye roll for my excessive need to say too much.)

I heard in a podcast recently that if we want to change our life, it will be at the cost of our old one.

Pause for dramatic effect.

So while my chain gets shorter and shorter, my life will get fuller.  And I will be a happy girl who has finally found peace as a single mom.

https://youtu.be/djrY_eFDOwE

You're a Good, Good Father

I've heard a thousand stories of what they think you're like

But I've heard the tender whispers of love in the dead of night

And you tell me that you're pleased

And that I'm never alone

You're a good good father

It's who you are, it's who you are, it's who you are

And I'm loved by you

It's who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am

I've seen many searching for answers far and wide

But I know we're all searching

For answers only you provide

'Cause you know just what we need

Before we say a word

You're a good good father

It's who you are, it's who you are, it's who you are

And I'm loved by you

It's who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am

Because you are perfect in all of your ways

You are perfect in all of your ways

You are perfect in all of your ways to us

You are perfect in all of your ways

You are perfect in all of your ways

You are perfect in all of your ways to us

Oh, it's love so undeniable

I, I can hardly speak

Peace so unexplainable

I, I can hardly think

As you call me deeper still

As you call me deeper still

As you call me deeper still

Into love, love, love

You're a good good father

It's who you are, it's who you are, it's who you are

And I'm loved by you

It's who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am

You're a good good father

It's who you are, it's who you are, it's who you are

And I'm loved by you

It's who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am

You're a good good father

It's who you are, it's who you are, it's who you are

And I'm loved by you

It's who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am

You're a good good father

You are perfect in all of your ways

It's who you are, it's who you are, it's who you are

And I'm loved by you

You are perfect in all of your ways

It's who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am

Me & Sheila

We sat in the arctic like waiting room with a multitude of others...all races, ages, genders represented and all as cold as I.  He was sitting across the room, ignoring my presence as is typical.  The father of my children.  The man I once vowed to love and cherish in sickness and in health.  It was an endless and cold wait.

Being my typical forthcoming and direct self, I made my way over to him so we could pass the time and talk about our children.  I hadn't brought anything aside from my case file, so the boredom and cold was eating at me.  I also wanted him to understand what had happened from my perspective to bring us to this place.  The conversation was needed, but didn't give me the peace I was hoping for.

Peace with an ex husband perhaps is not attainable.

 This conversion of all things legal in relation to our boys began a chain of thought that ended with the realization that I had successfully survived the stages of grief.

Two years later and I am finally healing.

My friend and I were discussing the nuances of relationships.  She is having a difficult time with her boyfriend, and contemplating the decision to leave.  This is not a foreign topic to us.  We discuss all things relational often.  But I heard myself tell her something that usually is not a part of my typical responses: "It's not the easy times that make you grow...you grow and change because of the difficult times.  So maybe this is just simply to make you stronger as a couple if you love each other through this."

(Pause while I have a conversation with my dog who apparently needs to potty for the fifth time in the last five minutes.  I believe she is just bored and wants to play outside.)

I had this thought last night about my stainless steel cleaner, Sheila Shine.  I set an alarm on my phone with the label, "Sheila Shine" so I wouldn't forget to process the thought.  Sheila Shine is the best stainless product I've ever used and can never get the stainless appliances to look anywhere close to the way it looks when I use this product.  When I clean the stainless without it, it ends up looking streaky and dull.  Every imperfection is noticeable.  Every mar on the stainless begs attention.  It is a subpar substitution for the good stuff.

Relationships without love and forgiveness are like stainless steel appliances without Sheila.  They end up dull and streaky, noticeably marred and imperfect.  They have lost their shine.

Every relationship I've had ended because we did not have the tools necessary to overcome difficulties.  The answer has always been to disconnect and terminate.  Perhaps that was the best solution.  That was most likely the only tool we had.

But I am confident of this: relationships without love and forgiveness will either end or be lackluster.  Like my stainless without Sheila.  And I am confident of my desire to never be in a lackluster relationship again.

For the past few months my heart has been restless.  I continued to live as I have before...like the broken girl who avoids pain at all cost.  But the things that used to give me relief instead started causing more pain.  I saw a trend in small changes.  My passion for playing the piano was renewed, the men who used to entertain me and pass the time no longer appealed to me.  The work I used to enjoy became mundane.  Alcohol started to become suspiciously unsatisfying.  The endless Netflix shows became noise in the background.  My non-attendance at church became suspect instead of purposeful.  I was just restless.

(Suspicions about dog confirmed.  It was play she was looking for.  Not a potty break.)

God has intentionally drawn me to Himself.  I never lost Him.  I was never without prayer.  But I was without His fullness.  I was lackluster.

The main focus of my life is finally to live in abundance.  To live an intentional life.  Instead of existing in survival mode, I am now able to live a calculated life with purpose.  And that life includes living and breathing the Creator who has carried me through every disappointment, every heartbreak, every obstacle in my life that could have destroyed me.  The girl of two years ago that was staring at the seven stages of grief with despair and hopelessness is unrecognizable to who I am now.

And in order to survive future heartbreak and obstacles, I have to hone the skills needed for love and forgiveness.  Sheila and I have some intentional living to do.

Rolling River God

River God

Little Stones are smooth

Only once the water passes through

So I am a stone

Rough and grainy still

Trying to reconcile this river's chill

But when I close my eyes

And feel you rushing by

I know that time brings change

And change takes time

And when the sunset comes

My prayer would be this one

That you might pick me up 

And notice that I am

Just a little smoother in your hand

Sometimes raging wild

Sometimes swollen high

Never have I known this river dry

The deepest part of you

Is where I want to stay

And feel the sharpest edges wash away

And when I close my eyes

And feel you rushing by

I know that time brings change

And change takes time

And when the sunset comes

My prayer would be just this one

That you might pick me up 

And notice that I am

Just a little smoother in your hand

Couch Crying

Psalm 84:3

Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself where she may have her young.  A place near your alter.

The song, "Gratitude" by Nichole Nordeman reminds me of how much I have to be thankful for.  I have two beautiful boys, an amazing family, equally amazing friends, a business I love, and enough money to provide.  With or without a partner, my life is full.

But as the song ends with a plea for God to provide what is lacking/wanted, I find that my soul is often in that same state of yearning.  I knew how to be a wife...I was good at it.  Being a single mom, however...a bit tricky.  One of my sweet friends texted me yesterday and said that she was thinking of me...as Jesus encourages us to take care of the widows she believes taking care of single moms is also equally important.  Her thoughtfulness combined with an unwelcome text from an ex, and seeming rejection from yet another man triggered a day full of tears and heaviness that I've not allowed myself to feel for a while.  My Apple Watch reminded me multiple times throughout the day to breathe because my heart rate was elevated.  (Big brother was also affected by my tears.)  I could not stop crying to save my life.  

My boys don't see me cry very often.  I generally don't cry.  I'm in survival mode most of the time, so the tears are held at bay so I can function successfully.  And seeing them respond to my tears is enough to continue this lack of tears.  They did not like that I was upset and stayed close to me all day..randomly giving me hugs.  We laid in bed and watched an afternoon movie.   I ended up at my friend's house, though I told her I wasn't fit to be around people, crying on her couch while our kids played.  She's the kind of friend that is not afraid of tears and loves me however I am...blubbering or laughing.  My boys slept in my bed.  I needed them close to me.

In my ingratitude, I yelled at God while I was driving to get my boys.  My windows and sunroof were down and I got some curious looks.  I was that girl in the car who drivers stay away from because she is a seeming crazy person.  I did not care.  In fact, the stares were a welcome reminder that I do, in fact, exist.

On one hand, I am enraged at the injustice of my life...but the other more prominent voice is that I don't deserve good things and I will be more content if I just accept that.

I suppose some of this upset is because I go to court this morning to resolve custody issues.  My parents aren't here to go with me, so I'm bringing the same crying-on-the-couch friend.  She said she will hold my knees when they start shaking.  Hopefully, she is bringing some tissues also.

This is going to be the kind of week that will demand growth and change.  My boys will be gone which will provide forced introspection.  I can't allow myself to stay stuck in a place of ingratitude and yearning.  It will erode what is left of my heart.  I have no choice but to push beyond the pain to find peace.  The kind of peace that can only be imparted by the One who made me.  Even if that means I end up crying on my friend's couch for seven days straight.

"Gratitude"

Send some rain, would You send some rain?

'Cause the earth is dry and needs to drink again

And the sun is high and we are sinking in the shade

Would You send a cloud, thunder long and loud?

Let the sky grow black and send some mercy down

Surely You can see that we are thirsty and afraid

But maybe not, not today

Maybe You'll provide in other ways

And if that's the case... 

We'll give thanks to You with gratitude

For lessons learned in how to thirst for You

How to bless the very sun that warms our face

If You never send us rain

Daily bread, give us daily bread

Bless our bodies, keep our children fed

Fill our cups, then fill them up again tonight

Wrap us up and warm us through

Tucked away beneath our sturdy roofs

Let us slumber safe from danger's view this time

Or maybe not, not today

Maybe You'll provide in other ways

And if that's the case...

We'll give thanks to You with gratitude

A lesson learned to hunger after You

That a starry sky offers a better view

If no roof is overhead

And if we never taste that bread

Oh, the differences that often are between

Everything we want and what we really need

So grant us peace, Jesus, grant us peace

Move our hearts to hear a single beat

Between alibis and enemies tonight

Or maybe not, not today

Peace might be another world away

And if that's the case... 

We'll give thanks to You with gratitude

For lessons learned in how to trust in You

That we are blessed beyond what we could ever dream

In abundance or in need

And if You never grant us peace...

But, Jesus, would You please...

Beautiful History. Stubborn Roots.

I was driving through north Louisiana with my parents and got a random message from someone I knew a long time ago.  Someone that knew me before my divorces...before my kids...before my attitude became pessimistic and apathetic.  His view of me was that I had the personality able to change lives...that I lit up a room...  His opinion of me sounded foreign and perhaps uninformed because the girl who wears her clothes now is a far cry from the girl in his memory.

Before my trip, I asked a dear friend if I was good dating material.  I respect him and knew I shouldn't ask the question if I didn't want the truth.  His response was (something alone these lines), "Well, you're a conservative Baptist on one hand and a party girl on the other.  It's a hard sell."

I'm typically attracted to men that are unlike my father.  They aren't church goers.  They are blue collar workers.  They are the men of country songs.  They viewed my Southern Baptist family who sings before we eat, reads the Bible around the table, and quotes scripture together as odd and somewhat comical.

I have often thought that I was not good enough for someone like my dad.  Not that blue collared workers are less than professional men...this is far from the truth.  But they are not labeled socially as "intellectuals", and this is the difference in my head.  I had this idea of what I deserved and someone seemingly smarter than me was always terrifying.  It accentuated every negative thought I had about myself.  I aimed towards those I could out-debate...out-manipulate...out-think.  Not that this was the reality, but it was one I was comfortable with.  The illusion was comfortable.

This is perhaps why I have not been successful in relationships.  In an attempt to eradicate my past, I have instead heightened its importance.

For perhaps I am who my family is.  Perhaps I am still the girl in her twenties who led a ministry, who wrote devotionals, who led Bible studies.  Who is at her core attracted to men similar to her father.

Perhaps it's time my path takes me back to my roots.  Despite the hard work I have put into removing them, they have stubbornly dug themselves in deeper.

This girl may just be tired of fighting her beautiful history.

Falling Upwards

My beautiful friend came over yesterday with her son.  I had had a very trying day.  I was feeling heavy because of the anniversary of Graham's near fatal drowning, I had cleaned about 25 toilets, 7 showers, and four kitchens that day.  I got pulled over on the way home because my son threw a water bottle out the window.  I came home to a dirty house with piles of laundry and dishes in the sink.  I hadn't gone to the grocery store in over a week so we had little food.  My mind was in turmoil over the many bills I have to pay and small amount of money I have to pay them.  I quickly vacuumed in preparation for her visit, and thought while I vacuumed how incredibly difficult it was to keep up with everything.  Every piece of paper in my boys' folder required a different action from me.  Field trip forms and money...homework...studying...book fair reminders...festival t-shirts...dress down day...water bottles...snacks....signing test papers...reading to my sons....it was just too much and I felt like a total failure.  I thought about other moms who brought cupcakes to school and whose kid was always prepared and dressed accordingly.  I was beyond exhausted...way past being stressed.  I needed a friend who understood and God knew this before my day had even happened when He prompted her to text me.

I vented to her my frustrations and fears.  I told her how I had come home the night before to my house with the door wide open and two little boys who were crying for fear that we had been broken into.  I told her how desperate and scared I felt in that moment with being single.  I shared my heart and she listened and got in the pit with me to console me.

She did not judge.  She empathized and listened and loved me.  And I immediately felt a weight lifted because I knew I wasn't alone.

I watched the movie Tully at her suggestion.  It's about a mom who's totally exhausted and has lost herself.  Her husband has not experienced this...men rarely do... all he is able to see is that his once vibrant wife is gone and has been replaced with a zombie covered in stickers and throw up who has bruises on her feet from constantly stepping on leggos.

I get her.

In my moment of frustration and fear yesterday, I had the thought that I was thankful my boys weren't with me for a week at a time.  As much as I miss them, I need help.  And their dad alleviates my stress when they stay with him.  I am finally able to see the benefit, besides my boys bonding with their father, of them being gone.

Being a single parent is incredibly difficult...if not sometimes damn near impossible.  I applaud women who do this without help.  I can't imagine how lost and scared and helpless they feel.

Yet somehow, we rise and overcome.  Somehow, our failures become our falling upwards moments.  We do things we never thought we could.  We surprise ourselves with our abilities and our determination to keep it together so our kids can thrive and be happy.  We have no other choice if we want the best for our kids but to survive...and do it well.

I'm so thankful that it's a new day.  I'm so thankful that I have another opportunity to get it right...to choose words of kindness over criticism when my boys make a mess or disobey.  I get another chance to dance with them while making dinner.  I get another stab at choosing joy over misery.

All because it's a new day. 

And this single momma is a survivor.

I'll Get Over It ... Maybe

It's Monday morning...the dreadful, hated Monday when I drop my boys off and won't have them in their beds for a week.

These are the Mondays when I clean all the linens, I clean up the remainder of their messes, and shut their door tightly.  All week long it will be an act of attempting to avoid their room at all costs.

I REALLY hate these Mondays.

At least now the tears stay at bay.  They used to fall freely during these weeks.

I had someone tell me that I was not all that great of a catch.  I was renting at 41, didn't have health insurance, and my parents had to help me with a car.  His message didn't have the desired effect.  I read it and chuckled sinisterly because I knew he didn't get it.

The repercussions of divorce go much further than the emotional pain.  It creeps into every area of your life...known and unknown...expected and unexpected.  I didn't expect it to affect my ability to get health insurance.  I didn't expect it to affect how much I pay in taxes.  I didn't expect it to affect my ability to be a boss.  I didn't expect it to turn me into a sinister, bitter woman.  I didn't expect it to change my desire to own a house.  I didn't expect it to separate me from married people or those who had never been married.  I didn't expect it to make me sympathetic towards government programs.   I didn't expect it to confuse the issue of religion.

And I certainly didn't expect to be writing about it almost daily for two years.

I keep telling myself that I'll get over it.  I'll get over missing my kids like crazy.  I'll get over having the weight of the world on my chest and feeling all alone in carrying it.  I'll get over the financial struggles, the dating chaos, the bitterness, the questioning my decision, the wanting him back feeling, the worry for my kids.

I'll get over it.

Right???  Time heals all wounds.  So they say.  I wonder if whoever said this was a divorced, single mom.

Pass the Pills, Please

Hi, my name is Rebekah and I'm a podcast addict.

I spend my days in yoga pants, earphones, running shoes, and covered in sweat.  Cleaning products are sometimes my only companions.  I have keys to most of my clients' houses so I don't interact with people frequently while I work.

So, podcasts it is.

I have become a listener of many different true crime podcasts.  They are eerie because they delve into the person's personality, their lives, their relationships, their mental state overall, and their mental state at the time of the crime.

Criminals are not very different from non-criminals.

I have lived a good portion of my life attempting to be free of medications.  I have been on a variety of different anti-depressants, anti-anxieties, and mood stabilizers.  I have a multitude of diagnosis (no idea what the plural of that is)....Anxiety disorder, PTSD, Bipolar II (not to be confused with the more severe Bipolar I), and ADHD.  I sought comfort in a psychiatrists' office at many different stages of my life.  I was in an abusive relationship and received the Bipolar diagnosis.  I held my son when he was dead and received the PTSD diagnosis.  I lived with an unstable alcoholic and received the Anxiety disorder diagnosis.  I was a single mom running a business with a million balls in the air and received the ADHD diagnosis.

Every time I attempted to live a life free of medication, it ended in failure.  I've had moments of cutting, wailing, pinching myself to alleviate the intense emotion, sleeping just to end the pain, medicating myself with alcohol and men.

The last time I stopped taking medication I was recently divorced and scared myself so badly I left a note before I went to sleep one night explaining that I had taken a bunch of random medications...that I loved my boys and I didn't mean to kill myself.

Firm sigh.

God made me with a deficit in my brain...I need medication to function.

I am very perturbed at the general attitude towards medications that are prescribed for mental health.

I have lived without them and I was miserable.  My kids were miserable.  My family was worried.

I watch many people I love struggle daily.  I'm not saying they all need to be medicated.  Because for some, it's a simple adjustment to our daily lives that our brains need.  Or more sleep.  Or better food.  Or more exercise.  For others like myself, we need the artillery to be balanced.  The truth is, our brain can only tolerate so much stress before we start to deteriorate.  And we live in a time where our brains are not given much nutrition. 

We are overworked, under slept, over-stressed.  We eat food that is lacking in nutrients.  Even the soil we grow our produce in is depleted and stressed out.  We are never still.  We look for other things that are just as weak and empty as us except Jesus to provide us with strength.  We take quick showers instead of long baths.  We brush our teeth furiously.  We are always on some form of technology.  We are bombarded with information and negativity. We live in small houses with our neighbors on top of us.  We can't see the stars.  Our kids have more homework than they should.  Life is extremely expensive.  We have multiple jobs to make ends meet.  We don't live in a calm environment with wide, open spaces that would give our brains time to heal and process.  We live in chaos.

Yet we expect that we should function as normally and peacefully as if we lived in the middle of nowhere, on a hill, surrounded by stars at night and beautiful sunrises in the morning, with no worries except what's eating our tomatoes in the garden and if we can all fit in the RV for our Thanksgiving trip (like my parents...insert jealousy) with little effort.

And we wonder why there are so many criminals.

I identify with most of the people that commit heinous crimes in my podcasts because they are usually in-the-heat-of-the-moment criminals.  They make one split decision based on the anarchy taking place in their brains and are forever doomed. (Now the sociopaths...God help them...totally different brains.)

If you don't identify with this, then you are one of the few who have a pristine brain...or are in total denial.  It's most likely the latter.

If the alternative to living a healthy, stable life is chaos and misery resulting in being the subject of a true crime podcast, then pass the pills, please.

Intense Pain...Incredible Joy

I was reading back through old blogs and was perturbed at myself.  How many blogs on single mom dating can one person write?  I mulled over this question for days.  Why did that seem to be the running theme in my life?  Surely I have other, more interesting things to write about?

And then a picture of Graham in the hospital flashed into my head.  I relived the whole incident...from start to finish and was left with a shortness of breath and a renewed anxiety.

I write about trivial things because the real stuff makes me panic.

Being a parent is unlike any other love or responsibility.  My heart will never stop sinking when I watch them walk into school on their own.  My worry for them will never cease.  The relief I feel when I finally have them back under my roof is persistent in its presence.

Living without them for a week at a time is like hanging my most important self up in my very large walk in closet/office and going in public as a sliver of a person. 

Nothing compares to motherhood.

I write about my dating adventures because it's comic relief.   My worry over my kids subsides for a short time as my fingers strike the keys.  I am lost in a world of humor and irrelevance, where the star of the show is this sliver of myself without my kids.  The fun, light, silly Rebekah.

It's a safe topic.

But what makes me who I am is the hard stuff.  The painful stuff. ...what my values are...who I value.  It has created not only intense pain but also incredible joy.  It's the guts of who I am.

Asking me to date without my kids is like asking a biker gang to go without leather.  It's just wrong.

I am doomed to write frivolous blogs 50% of the time...when my boys aren't tucked in their beds at my house as they should be.

The other 50% of the time is reserved for my anxiety over my boys....along with my intense pain...and incredible joy...as they snooze in their beds at momma's house.

I love Jesus...but I drink a little

My favorite thing is when people offer their opinions of me when they don't know me. (Insert sarcasm)

And my most favorite thing above that is when they judge my parenting.

It has taken me a long time to understand that the way that I think is very different from the majority.  I am not a rule follower.  I am curious about all kinds of people.  My boys have developed relationships with many different types of people.  They have been in many different types of atmospheres.  I don't shield them from much unless I feel it will hurt them physically.  We have explored our little corner of this amazing world.  Their little eyes have seen a lot of it with all its complex, confusing beauty. I am teaching them to love without judgement or expectation.

I don't believe that there is a set criteria to loving Jesus.  I believe we will all be shocked as hell when we get to heaven and see who's there.

What if a drug dealer/pimp/Buddhist is just as "godly" as my Southern Baptist preacher father?  What if me and my non-church-going, wine drinking, non-monogamous, universalist self is just as "godly" as a Children's minister?  

I have dear friends who are polyamorous and love to kid me about a line in my profile that I put once in a dating app.  "I love Jesus, but I drink a little."  That pretty much sums me up.

I believe God is bigger than our feeble attempt at morality.  I believe that He is so big, we will never be able to come close to understanding His holiness.  And it certainly isn't contained in a church building...or book...or our limited human knowledge.  I believe that He is more concerned with the state of our hearts than the "sins" we commit.

What is sin?  Google's definition....

sin: noun.an immoral act considered to be a transgression against divine law.

"a sin in the eyes of God"

synonyms: immoral act, wrong, wrongdoing, act of evil/wickedness, transgression, crime, offense, misdeed, misdemeanor; 

Verses about sin in the Bible:

Galatians 5:19-21 The Message (MSG)

19-21 It is obvious what kind of life develops out of trying to get your own way all the time: repetitive, loveless, cheap sex; a stinking accumulation of mental and emotional garbage; frenzied and joyless grabs for happiness; trinket gods; magic-show religion; paranoid loneliness; cutthroat competition; all-consuming-yet-never-satisfied wants; a brutal temper; an impotence to love or be loved; divided homes and divided lives; small-minded and lopsided pursuits; the vicious habit of depersonalizing everyone into a rival; uncontrolled and uncontrollable addictions; ugly parodies of community. I could go on.

This isn’t the first time I have warned you, you know. If you use your freedom this way, you will not inherit God’s kingdom.

James 4:17 The Message (MSG)  16-17 As it is, you are full of your grandiose selves. All such vaunting self-importance is evil. In fact, if you know the right thing to do and don’t do it, that, for you, is evil.

All of this is about the state of your heart.  

It doesn't say: sin is taking your kids around people who are not in the same socio-economic level, who curse, who smoke, who drink, who live with their partner, who are not as educated, who eat only like you do.  

It doesn't say: You are sinning if you watch rated R movies or smoke pot or are homosexual.

I believe that all mention of sin in the Bible is because the state of the HEART was off...not their actions.

God knows when we are acting in a way that is unbecoming to who we are.  He knows when we are behaving in a way that is selfish, loveless, greedy, jealous, prideful.  It's not about the ACT ... it's about the MOTIVE behind the act.

Hi, I'm Rebekah.  Mother to two beautiful, cool, amazing boys.  We have homosexual friends.  We have drug addict friends.  We have non-monogamous friends.  We have super liberal friends.  We have homeless friends.  I have tattoos.  I watch rated R movies.  I don't go to church regularly.

My heart is full of Jesus.

I love Jesus, but I drink a little.

Truth and Consequences

I watched "The Invention of Lying" last night.  I. LOVED. THIS. MOVIE. 

I am a truth teller, as my friend likes to call me.  Thus, the love of this movie.  I have a hard time being indirect or speaking false things just to make someone feel better.  I am missing the piece of me that politely lies in order to maintain the peace.  I am also unafraid of confrontation, so I suppose these two traits are complimentary...telling the truth and being OK with a troublesome exchange as a result.

An unpleasant interaction with my dear friend recently gave me pause.  It was because I spoke the truth when someone asked me about her.  In her opinion it was gossip and translated to people talking about her behind her back.  In my opinion, I was simply divulging accurate information for another friend who loved her as I did.  One of the responses from my friend who felt betrayed was that she would start telling others things about me as well.  My response was that I hoped she always spoke the truth about me...regardless of how unattractive it may be.

The truth about me is not always pleasant.  Every other Monday, I go into a cocoon of coping mechanisms implemented in order to keep me from falling apart.  I miss my boys so badly, nothing is off limits if it will keep the misery at bay.  I drink too much.  I eat too much.  I sleep too much.  I do a variety of other self destructive things until I feel I can function without a severe handicap.  Sometimes the feelings subside.  Sometimes they don't and my self-destruction continues.

I do have moments of victory over these misguided coping skills at times.  But these are when I'm in the height of health and wellness.  If anything is askew at all in my mental or physical well being, the old dirty habits creep in easily.

What can I say...I'm a work in progress.

Along with my truth telling, I also do not divulge information unless I feel it's necessary.  I'm a fan of people minding their own business and me minding mine.  But if I'm asked a direct question, I inevitably tell the truth.  My response should be, "I'd rather not talk about that."  But I haven't quite mastered that response.

Goal #2,579 ... know when to tell people it's not their business....

As a momma, the only other person whose business I am concerned with is my boys.  Yes, I get upset when I feel like people close to me are making bad choices.  But the concern is easily replaced with the fact that they are adults with free will like me.  And I'm the queen of bad choices, so it's almost relieving when I'm not alone in this.

What if my "bad" choices are not bad at all and are in fact a necessary part of who I am?  Aside from the alcohol that rots your insides, what if my personality is simply the personality of someone who has little regard for rules and "proper" interactions?  What if I was created specifically for the purpose of living freely....detached...?  I have discovered that having to answer to anyone is my least favorite thing.  I don't want to have to tell anyone where I am or what I'm doing.  It's not because I'm ashamed, it just seems cumbersome and unnecessary to me.  Why should anyone care where I am and what I'm doing?  Is that love?

Love seems to have turned into a term that justifies our bad behaviors.  I love you so I'll track every move you make.  I love you so I'll have an opinion about everything you do.  I love you so I have a right to go through your phone.  I love you so I'll judge your interactions.  I love you so I need to approve every decision you make.  I love you so I'll get easily hurt by you.  I love you so I want to spend every second with you.  I love you and because that makes me vulnerable I do not trust you.

Love never gives up.

Love cares more for others than for self.

Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.

Love doesn’t strut,

Doesn’t have a swelled head,

Doesn’t force itself on others,

Isn’t always “me first,”

Doesn’t fly off the handle,

Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,

Doesn’t revel when others grovel,

Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,

Puts up with anything,

Trusts God always,

Always looks for the best,

Never looks back,

But keeps going to the end.

1 Corinthians 13:7

If I feel like I have a right to know what my boys are doing because I love them intensely, then perhaps that is a side effect of love.  BUT my boys are my responsibility.  God gave them to me to nurture and help them grow into the best possible people they can be.  So therefore, their words and actions are my business. I don't feel the same responsibility for anyone else.  So the love I have for my boys is a different kind of love.  It's more a self-love because they are extensions of me.

Romantic love has probably eluded me because of my indifference to others.

I have developed into this person.  I was once the girl crying in a church while a homeless man gave his testimony.

That girl is long gone.  Whether it is because of nature or nurture, I'll never know.  It's a moot point now.

Truth and consequences...two things I am unafraid of.  Love, however, ....terrifying.

Man A.K.A. POSER

I was once a stepmom.  I had the honor of loving someone else's child for most of her childhood.  At the time, I thought that I was behaving as I should.  Asking her dad to put me before her at times.  Believing that a healthy marriage starts with a solid union and that meant you give your spouse priority.  I believe that this is a great concept...assuming the union actually works.  But if it doesn't, it seems like a wasted priority.

I approached my newfound singleness as a parent in much the same way.  I believed I would find a man who would replace my husband in what I deemed a proper priority placement.  I believed I would find someone who would love my boys as much as I loved my stepdaughter.  I naively approached dating and men in this manner.

I was recently told that this skewed priority placement was one of the downfalls of my appeal as a partner.  I had already adjusted this mistaken priority list months ago, but it affirmed that I had indeed been misguided in my approach as a single mother.

Unfortunately, temporary companions are replaceable.  There are a plethora of men eager to date for a short period of time.  They are quick to be there for you initially.  They swoop in and make you think you finally found a decent man who is willing to muddle through difficulties, only to find that they run out the door like all the others when things get difficult.

In the words of Bridget Jones,

"What is your problem? You give the impression of being all moral, and noble...and normal...and helpful in the kitchen. But you're just as bad as the rest of them."

I'm not sure if this habit of false, initial appearances is simply to benefit their ego, to give them sexual satisfaction, or if they genuinely are unaware that they are misrepresenting themselves.  

Or maybe it's just that the expiration of dating is around 3 months because after 3 months the reality of companionship settles in and it's just easier to cut and run rather than tolerate differences.

Whatever the reason, it is quite the cluster and if you are unhappily married I suggest you spend time with a single woman in her 40s and you will go home and cling to your husband like you never have before.  

I find that when I don't have my kids, I am distracted and lost and seem a bit like my life is pointless.  I've had times when I felt I conquered this hopelessness, but it always seems to make its way back into my psyche.  I don't know who I am apart from being a mom most of the time.  

And dating makes this feeling even more pronounced.

Perhaps this is something every mother who has to live without her kids feels.

I know I'm not alone in this serious lapse in identity...Feeling like your identity is put on hold until two little boys are asleep in their beds in your house.  I don't know what normal is...I just know that there has got to be a way to bridge the gap between absences.  And that most definitely does not involve a man...A.K.A. POSER.

Hook up Culture

I was talking to someone who is about to venture into the world of divorced mom.  She has watched me through mine and is now unfortunately enduring her own.

"I don't think I will be able to make it in this hook-up culture.  How do you do it?"

I paused for a minute and then said resolutely, "I give no one access to my heart anymore."

The beauty of our hook up culture is that we rely only on ourselves for necessities...food, clothing, entertainment, shelter.  We answer to no one.  We come and go as we deem appropriate and are rarely concerned with others' opinions.

We are too busy surviving.

I met someone recently that made me question my quest for singleness.  I liked him.  He gave me butterflies.  He made me smile when I received a text.  I felt all gooey inside.

He is also hundreds of miles away.  Perfect for someone whose heart has seen better days.

The beauty of closing your heart off is you can stay in that space for a long time....in the romantic phase where reality never really settles on you.  You can keep people at a comfortable distance and step into their world only when you want.  There is no danger of being hurt because you haven't let them in.

The down side to this closing off your heart business is that you do it across the board.  For everyone.  Except your kids.

Kids are safe to pour your heart into.  They will hurt it, but that is an expected hurt.  It's not the kind of hurt that takes you off guard and makes you question the essence of humanity.  And firmly feel you have again failed in your pursuit of finding kindness.  It's not the kind of hurt that calls for yet another department to be shut down.  If anything, it pushes you to let them in more deeply.

They will beat it up, but it's a rewarding kind of beating.  From the moment you say hello to their beautiful face, you have surrendered any right to selfishness.  Their beatings and rejections make you pursue them even more.  Because you know they need you.

For the kind of love you have for your kids is the agape kind...the kind that Jesus has for us.

"Agape love is selfless, sacrificial, unconditional love. It is the highest of the four types of love in the Bible. This Greek word, agápē, and variations of it are frequently found throughout the New Testament. Agape perfectly describes the kind of love Jesus Christ has for his Father and for his followers."

God in His beauty and goodness pursues us even harder when we give Him a beating.  He invades our personal space.  He has knowledge of us that no one has access to.  He sees our motives.  He understands our behaviors.  He created us so we are no mystery to Him.  Our efforts to push Him away are an invitation for Him to pull us closer.  He is unrelenting in His love for us.

Trust me, I have tried to push Him away.

So in this culture that is a fan of hooking up, the only ones who get to see your heart are the ones you carried inside you and the One who carries you.

https://youtu.be/TCunuL58odQ

The Benefit of Loneliness

My dating life, or lack thereof, has given me a renewed interest in my life.  I'm finding myself taking pleasure in cooking a meal for just me, tending to my plants, doing small projects around my house, working out while watching my new favorite show "Ballers", swinging outside while Sadie plays, reading voraciously, and I intend to make a trip to Michael's to buy some paints and brushes to stoke that passion.  I am parading as a person who has her stuff together.

Loneliness has its benefits.

I entertained the idea of casually seeing one man in particular that has been a steady in my life for two years.  I quickly realized that was a recipe for disaster as the universe would be plotting against me to develop feelings for him if he was the lone ranger and I was in no condition to entertain that.  So he also got the boot.  Until I am happily lonely, men do not have a place in my heart. 

I am continuing to hang out with men I've dated.  Strictly as friends.  Well, those that are actually interested in me as a person, at least.  Some of them scattered when they found out I was not dating.  This has been an interesting development for me as I am now not concerned with how they perceive me.  I've often met them out with no makeup on and having forgotten to brush my teeth.  I am exploring what it means to enjoy someone's company without the convolution of intimacy and romance.

I have become a true adult somewhere along the way.  My priorities seem to have settled into a healthy place.  It's survival that required this shift.  I am fully aware now that I am responsible for my kids and myself.  I alone.  Yes, I have help from my wonderful parents.  But I have categorized that as temporary help until I am fully functioning on my own.  It is my duty as their mother to teach them how to save money, to teach them what it means to love Jesus, to show them how to behave in tough situations, how to treat others who are both less and more fortunate than them.  And the hard lesson of saying no to them when finances don't allow their desires to be carried out. 

I look back on these almost three years of separation and divorce and I can see the necessary pain.  I made so many poor decisions.  But it was where I was mentally and emotionally.  I made few good ones, and those I count as wins because I was certainly in no place to allow for good decisions. 

My brother told me a few months after my divorce that I had to learn to be stable on my own for my boys without anyone else providing that for me.  I remember thinking he was crazy and out of touch with my reality.  And at the time, that was probably true because I could not mentally make that leap to independent stability.

I may not be where I want to be, but I'm much closer than I was.  Stability for my boys has been achieved only because of the pain I've endured .... and the love that Jesus has for me.

Loneliness has its benefits.

Loneliness

Life has become divided into weeks with my boys and weeks without them.  I am consumed with survival.  When I don't have them, I'm preoccupied with making money.  When I have them, I'm consumed with spending time with them.  Either way, I am consumed.  Dating distracted me from the consummation that has become my life.  Now that that is gone, I am having to stare into the face of my loneliness that has taken shape and made itself at home.

I had the thought yesterday that my time for being joyful and full of life were over.  I would never feel whole again.  I would never laugh unhinged again.  I may never fall in love again.  I'm beginning to wonder if my heart is even capable of it.

I lived a good portion of the past few years with the hope that my marriage would be restored.  I held onto that hope.  I nurtured it and kept it safe from strangers.  I held back in my other relationships because my husband still had my heart.  Because of this, I delayed the healing process.  I was never fully committed or convinced that I was single.  I thought it was just a cruel joke that would soon be rectified. 

Three years later I am finally realizing that I. Am. Single.

I look back on my journey and I can see all the necessary components to my grief.   I had the anger phase, the denial phase, the bargaining phase, the depression phase, and I think I may finally be in the acceptance phase.

It will be interesting to see if my roommate Loneliness and I will get along.

Pursuit of Happyness

My boys and I watched the Pursuit of Happyness together.    I was impressed that they were remotely interested in watching it, but they did.  With rapt attention.  We were all disturbed by the sleeping in the bathroom moment and the sleeping on the bus moment...the shelters...the hardship this father and son had to endure.  But it was a great moment for us to talk about life.

Not everyone has a bed to call their own.

My boys have three beds...one at my house, one at their dad's and one at their grandparents.  They are so well loved by so many people.  I am thankful for that.

I often wonder how the effects of the divorce will show up in their lives.  Will they be quicker to forgive?  Slower to trust?  Will they be fiercely protective of what's theirs?  Will they love me harder and with a devotion and responsibility that other kids whose moms are married don't feel?  Will they know what it means to sacrifice?  Be good at saying goodbye?  Will they cling to loved ones or push them away?

Our puppy has brought to light quite a few traits in my boys.  I have discovered that Brady is fiercely protective of not only his brother, but others he loves.  Graham's responsibility of caring for someone is surfacing.  They now wake with a sense of purpose and direction.  And go to bed smiling with this newfound love.

Sadie is a delightful addition to our little family.  We are all smitten and drunk with the happiness that comes with new relationships.We find ourselves caring less and less about our electronics and more and more about being outside and swinging.  We can sit for hours and watch Sadie play.  I had an idea that she would lessen our loneliness, but not to this degree.

I'm not a die hard pet person.  Those who knew me when I acquired Bubba through my marriage can attest to this.  I don't immediately seek out dogs or cats.  I was raised in the country where pets stayed outside and certainly never slept on your bed.  I am a clean freak and never quite understood the allure.  Even when I got my first dog after my first marriage, I was still detached.  I had to choose her companionship over that of a man quickly after getting her, and I chose the latter.  She was a short-lived addition to my life.

But Sadie has come at a time when I desperately needed to care for someone in the absence of my boys.  She alleviates sadness, feelings of being lost, despair.  This little ball of fluffy, blonde fur has re-energized this momma.

I discovered recently that I had no hobbies aside from dating.  I was addicted to dating.  I used it to fill my time, take away my loneliness, make me feel loved and significant.  Men were a tool for my insatiable appetite to feel wanted.

Upon making this discovery during a conversation with one of the contenders, I have since stopped dating completely.

While my boys are away, sleeping in one of their many beds, I will be home with my dog.  Drinking coffee.  Working.  Swimming laps.  Lifting weights.  Drinking wine with friends.  Writing.  Reading.  Painting.  Binging on Netflix.  Playing the piano.

It's time for this momma to pursue happyness.  Sans men.

Scattered Pieces

The rain falls.  Solemnly making its way to the ground.  It parallels my mood.

My home no longer feels like home.  The streets that I've known for years now ache with an alien quality they didn't used to possess.  The places I frequent reek of unfamiliarity and strangeness.

I feel lost.

My sweet friend called to check on me and left me with these wise words...I now have to find another anchor.

My parents have been my anchor for years.  Unbeknownst to me, the weight of who I was depended on where they were.  I had purpose and meaning.  I never questioned what my holidays would look like because it would be with them.  My days were filled with small conversations about daily life that confirmed I was loved and cared for.  You could find me most mornings at their breakfast table.  My singleness was softened by their presence in my life.  My boys' lives were fuller.  The trauma of the divorce was lessened.

My boys and I had our first official dinner at our new kitchen table.  Just the three of us.  In that moment, I realized that we were it.  This small gathering of three people was the family we now had left.

My life is not at all the way I pictured it when I was younger.  I imagined growing old with the same person.  I imagined a house full of love, activity, loving arguments, messes, food, board games, books.  I imagined having a constant partner in crime who knew me intimately and loved me intensely.  I imagined being known.  And loved in spite of.

Now life seems like a never ending audition for intimacy.  First dates run rampant, myself revealed in small portions, scattered in multiple directions.  Fragments of who I am that make a complete picture if put all together.

But no one person holds all the pieces.

One of my favorite movies is "Split" by M. Night Shyamalan.  The movie is about a man who has split personalities.  One of his personalities is a beast.

The Beast: We are glorious! We will no longer be afraid. Only through pain can you achieve your greatness! The impure are the untouched, the unburned, the unslain. Those who have not been torn have no value in themselves and no place in this world! They are asleep! 

... The broken are the more evolved...

If pain is the catalyst that spurs you to greatness, surely there is something great in store for me.  Me and all my broken, scattered pieces.  Now without an anchor.

Big Girl Panties

Today is the first day that I have woken up in this city without my parents residing here.  For the past 20 years we have lived in the same city.

I've never felt so lost...or empty.

Through all the changes I have been through, their constant presence in my life has been my net.  I was never truly afraid of what happened because I knew they were there to catch me.  Now that that net has been removed, fear is affirming its presence.

I saw their faces multiple times a week.  They were my strength when my world fell apart...the multiple times that it did.  With each failed relationship, almost losing my baby, and the millions of other little heartbreaks along the way I knew they were there.

I suppose it's past time for this girl to put her big girl panties on and grow up.

"When the whole world changes, He'll remain the same."

Unpacking My Broken Heart

Moving to a new house is a shock to your brain.  Routines have to be changed.  Things are in different places. You're sleeping in a different space.  Your dishes have moved over night.  It's an interesting transition to an attempt at normal.  Again.  In the past three years, I have moved three times.  My dad and I have grunted over furniture.  We have wounded ourselves.  I have had to find new places for my pictures and paintings.  I've had to re-hang my clothes.  I've broken countless items and trashed multiple things.  My brain is an expert lately on this moving thing.

Amidst all the clutter and re-organizing is my heart.  Once again taking a stab at stability.

I started dating a man in the midst of all of this transition.  It was against my better judgment because I knew I had a lot to deal with already with the move.  But I liked him, so I continued.  It ended as quickly as it started and I was once again unpacking not just boxes but my wounded ego.

I am a failure at romance.  My friends who love me say it's because all these men are idiots and it's got nothing to do with me.  But when the view of their backside running with their hair on fire away from me becomes the norm, their assumption begs a different answer.

They tell you in all the books on dating to play it cool.  They tell you to live your life and allow him to lead.  They tell you to be vague and coy, withdrawn and busy.  On one hand.  On the other, they say to be vulnerable and inviting.  To be interested and accessible.  To be exciting and fun.

Dating is exhausting.

Everyone is playing their own game and assumptions run rampant.  And insert texting conversations as the main tool and you have an astronomical disaster.  Complete with wounds and egos and misunderstandings.

It's super fun.

I am starting to wonder if I destroy relationships on purpose.  I have unpacked multiple broken relationships and this momma is just plain, doggone tired.

It's easier to run them off in the beginning because the chances of us actually making it are slim to none anyways.  I intentionally bring up intense conversations initially because I am already anticipating their inability to hang.  I assume they won't be able to deal with my directness and intensity so I bring it full force.  I offend them.  I analyze them.  I make them play defense.  I force them to make premature decisions because the inevitability of collapse is imminent. And all the while, I'm rolling my eyes at myself...knowing that I am pushing them away deliberately.

I'm a pro at unpacking broken relationships.

In this new house, I often wonder if this is the place I will be for the rest of my 40s.  Single, raising my boys, adding a dog at some point.  And probably a cat.  Cutting my own grass.  Grocery shopping for three.  Eating cheese and crackers for dinner when my boys aren't with me.  Making plans that include only friends and their kids.  Having the occasional date, but going into it with little expectation and excitement.  Working on building my business, building my muscles, maximizing my space, my spirituality, my character.  This is my life.

I suspect I am not alone in this landscape of singleness.  When love becomes allusive and dating a joke.  When your friends become your family and the only source of companionship is found in your kids and your pets.  When making decisions is all about your children and plans for the future include just the three of you.  And experiencing tough things alone becomes the norm. 

I had a moment the other day when I despised being single.  I texted my two friends the following:
"Being single sucks.  That is all."

When they texted back, five minutes later, and asked why I could not remember what prompted the text.  The moment came and left just as quickly as it came.  And I was back to being the Independent Rebekah, contentedly single.

But having to face trials alone is the part of being single I don't much care for.  Yes, there are always people ready to listen and provide sound advice.  But when I hang up the phone or come back to my place, it's just me.  In a big, quiet house.  Having to live with the decisions I make and have made.

The worst part of the day is the thirty minutes at the end of the day.  When you brush your teeth, wash your face, and crawl into bed.  Alone.  In that space of half an hour, the fullness of being single settles on me.  It covers every inch of me and wraps me in a web of solitude.  My book provides a bit of reprieve, but the web is firmly attached and leaves little space wanting.  In this moment, I am fully alone.

When I think back to the relationships that have failed, I find that the familiarity of them is the most difficult part to get over.  The familiarity of their smell, their tone of voice, their touch, their routines, their things, their habits.  Knowing them better than most because you are in that intimate space with them.  You have co-mingled your lives.  All your belongs share a space.  Your souls share a space.  You both call the same place home. 

God and I are making this new place home to me and two little boys.  We are together creating familiarity in the newness.  I may have unpacked a few broken relationships in my life, but nothing supersedes the enormous box of being called momma.   


https://youtu.be/WyF8RHM1OCg

Here I Go Again

Whitesnake

I don't know where I'm goin'

But I sure know where I've been

Hanging on the promises in songs of yesterday

An' I've made up my mind, I ain't wasting no more time

Here I go again, here I go again

Tho' I keep searching for an answer

I never seem to find what I'm looking for

Oh Lord, I pray you give me strength to carry on

'Cause I know what it means to walk along the lonely street of dreams

Here I go again on my own

Goin' down the only road I've ever known

Like a drifter I was born to walk alone

An' I've made up my mind, I ain't wasting no more time

Just another heart in need of rescue

Waiting on love's sweet charity

An' I'm gonna hold on for the rest of my days

'Cause I know what it means to walk along the lonely street of dreams

And here I go again on my own

Goin' down the only road I've ever known

Like a drifter I was born to walk alone

An' I've made up my mind, I ain't wasting no more time

But here I go again, here I go again,

Here I go again, here I go

'Cause I know what it means to walk along the lonely street of dreams

Here I go again on my own

Goin' down the only road I've ever known

Like a drifter I was born to walk alone

An' I've made up my mind, I ain't wasting no more time

Here I go again on my own

Goin' down the only road I've ever known

Like a drifter I was born to walk alone

'Cause I know what it means to walk along the lonely street of dreams

Here I go again on my own

Goin' down the only road I've ever known

Like a drifter I was born to walk alone