Music is a big part of my life. I'm not a singer but I sing anyway. I listen to the radio in the car, my iPod in bed and when on the computer and sing along to the songs overhead in stores (yes, I'm THAT person. It's annoying. But deal with it, mmmmkay? :) ). Song lyrics speak to me. I like to pretend that I can sing along with them and sound good but all would not agree.
My ex-husband used to ask me why I used to sing so loudly. Well, the answer to that is I only have one volume for singing. Loud. If you don't like it? Don't play music I like (which he would gladly do and change the radio to an am sports station and I would pout. LOL.) In the car? I am Carrie freaking Underwood. I sound AWESOME.
I have a playlist on my iPod entitled "Hope." I have listened to this playlist on a continuous loop for a couple months now. Most, if not all of the songs are Christian and are trying to tell me that even though this may be a crappy time - there is hope out there. I turned the iPod on tonight - not feeling particularly down or particularly good. The first song? Alive by Avalon.
A bit of the lyrics:
I don't want to be broken anymore
Living life in a million pieces
I can see my world is changing
Waking me from my sleeping
I hear You calling, it's speaking my name
I will never be the same
I DON'T want to be broken anymore. I want to be happy. I want to wake up in the morning and not have the crushing blow that my Daddy is no longer on this earth hit me. I'm not selfish enough to wish him back, but I miss him.
My life has been in a million pieces and not just because of my Daddy's death. It was breaking before he died and flat out shattered after he was gone.
But you know what? I can see my world changing. I do feel like I may be waking up from the sleeping or from the dark place I was in. I hear God calling me to do something, anything, but be sad 24/7. I will never be the same anymore because now I have experienced true loss. No one could ever come out of the other side of that an unchanged person.
My Daddy would be so angry at me for being so sad for so long. He would say, "Get OVER it already." He wasn't one to dwell. But I think he deserves some dwelling. I think that everyone that loves him deserves to be sad that this man is not on the earth anymore.
I will admit that I am still looking for signs. I want a sign from him. A dream. Anything. I just want to know that he is looking over me and watching me. Maybe I haven't had a sign because he isn't watching me because I have been so sad. After all, Heaven is perfect - I can't believe that he can look down and see us all being sad. That would not be perfect for him. So maybe I need to be happy to get my signs from him.
I got a new phone last week because it was time for an upgrade. My Daddy was nearly an original adopter of cell phones. That man had a phone attached to his ear for a good 15 years if not 20. He got me my first phone when I went away to college so I myself have had a cell phone for 14 years. Daddy always got frustrated with his phones. My new phone? Has been acting up already. The Verizon guy nearly needed to talk me down from a panic attack because my phone froze yesterday and it hadn't worked for 30 minutes. 30 MINUTES! What if something had happened in that 30 minutes? If Gigi was hurt? Or I got an important e-mail (y'know like that someone commented on my blog?). Seriously. I need to get a grip.
After that freakout I realized maybe that was my Daddy's way of messing with me. Funny joke Daddy. Please don't make me freak out again.
Or? Maybe my Daddy is giving me signs of verses or songs that I should review. I was in a waiting room the other day and there was a picture of some football player and an article with it. I didn't read the article but very clear in the picture you could see the words "James 1: 2-3" tattooed on his arm. Hmmmm...I wonder what that verse was?
2Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.
Interesting. Like when the song I wrote about last time popped into my head. Or the song that I heard tonight. Is my Daddy sending me scripture and songs? SOOOOOO not his style. But someone knew I needed to read it. I can't help but think it was him.
Last week on the 13th was 3 months since my Daddy passed away. I observed that day by finally watching the DVD that we made for his memorial. I won't lie and say it wasn't hard. But I was ready. I was ready to see my smiling, alive, funny Daddy. It didn't make me miss him more (because I don't think I can) or miss him less. It was just...him. Pictures of him with his friends, pictures of him with Mama, with K and I, and with his grandkids.
Last weekend Lulu shot her first pheasant while hunting at "Papa's lodge." She has a couple surrogate Papa's that will make sure she gets to hunt - something Daddy loved to do. He was so proud of her that day I know.
We all miss him terribly. Sometimes it's still hard to realize he is gone. My Mama's home phone number is still in my phone as "Mom and Dad home" and his cell phone number is still in my phone. I downloaded new ringtones last night and for just a moment was thinking of what would be funny for his. Then I realized that he doesn't need a ringtone anymore. Its those dumb things that send me into a crying jag, but I did find an awesome one for K and for my Mama :)
But if I didn't cry? I wouldn't be healing. I wouldn't be Alive like the song says. I don't want to be broken anymore....and I'm working on it.
Gigi and I went to church today after a fun filled day. It's homecoming at my alma mater so we hit the parade this morning (ask her how much candy she got) and then we went to the football game (ask us how wet we got when it started raining and we had walked to the game!). One of my good friends from college was here along with her husband and parents and it was AWESOME to see them this weekend. They had made the trek down for the memorial service but it was nice to actually be able to chat and remember our conversations (as I don't remember much about what happened in the week after my Daddy passed away). I have known these people since I was Gigi's age and they just enveloped us in love this weekend.
We have had unseasonably warm temps here in SoDak and we have taken advantage of that by spending any extra time outside enjoying the sunshine. I also was sick (strep throat a.k.a. 'school cooties') this week so pardon my weeklong absence.
At church tonight our wonderful Pastor preached on the gospel message of the one leper that returned to thank Jesus for healing. 10 lepers had been healed but only that ONE said thank you.
He told a story of how Satan had a rummage sale. At this rummage sale he had prices on things such as jealousy, anger and resentment. The thing that was the highest priced was off to the side and was priced the highest. That thing? Discouragement.
Ummmm...it's nice that Pastor Tim's writes his sermons JUST FOR ME, but maybe others could use a message every once in awhile? Kidding. I'm kidding...mostly.
You see, if you had talked to me in the last week you would realize just how much Satan has been knocking on my door. Discouraged I was. Discouraged I still am but I'm working on it.
Satan has been talking in my ear about how no one wants me. No one wants to even interview me. The intelligent part of me knows that a job will come...eventually. The intelligent part of me knows that I have a good (GREAT!) resume and the job market just absolutely SUCKS. The intelligent part of me even knows that I am in fact intelligent. I am not stupid.
Satan has told me that I am not intelligent, that I am not worth anything and that I am not loved. Satan overtook my brain for a few days with my discouragement.
You know what? Screw you Satan. I will NOT be discouraged anymore. Disappointed? Maybe occasionally. But I WILL count my blessings (and there are MANY) and I will not be discouraged. There is a song that Gigi learned in bible school based on Joshua 1:9 (I like the NIV translation of this verse the best)
"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go."
And if you are singing the song you add an extra "wherever you go-o" on the end of it.
And counting my blessings...
*My wonderful neighbors (and friends!). The Ba's, the Bo's and the Z's have not only been a blessing because of their fantabulous children, but because of the friendships I have made. I live in a neighborhood where it takes a village and am LUCKY to be here.
*My church family who knows what I need to hear when I need to hear it.
*My friends that are visiting this weekend. It may have been a rocky road when we were young - but I adore my Sasa now and can't wait to meet her new little girl! Her husband is also great and her parents? My second set while we were in college.
*I am also thankful for the ability to be busy today. October 9th was my parents wedding anniversary. My Mama was busy with good friends today and I was busy too. Didn't lose it until the middle of church when Pastor Tim basically said, "Okay everyone else stop listening and I'm just going to talk to Tisti right now." (Okay FINE...he didn't actually say that but it sure felt like he should've!)
To be perfectly honest, this post is hard for me to hit publish on. Growing up I just always believed because that's what I was taught. Questioning came later, but I don't share my faith with people unless specifically asked. I'm Lutheran - we're polite and not pushy! We like potlucks with hotdishes (that'd be casseroles for anyone not from MN, SD, ND or IA).
I don't like feeling as though I may be judged for professing my faith and "talking" about how much my pastor's message hit me to the core. I know I have readers that run the gamut from athiest and agnostic to the other end of the spectrum and hope I haven't offended anyone. And now? I'm doing that people pleasing thing that my therapist says I'm supposed to stop doing! LOL.
After this busy weekend I'm also very thankful for Native American Day on Monday (what? You celebrate Columbus Day? SoDak doesn't. It's Native American Day here *rolleyes*) and an extra day off on Tuesday for Gigi and I to just chill and play and chill some more. I've missed my girl while she is at school!
I'm a good person. Intrinsicly I care about people and want to make their lives better. I have pretty much believed my whole life that because I am a good person - bad things will not happen.
Now where is the fallacy in that thinking? Bad things do happen to good people. I just never thought it would happen to me. Does that somehow mean that when bad things did happen to good people that I somehow thought they deserved it? The answer to that is not really. It should be an emphatic no but it's not really.
I was married once - to the man I believed was the love of my life. Sometimes that "love" was not very nice to me. I chalked it up to stress, money issues and just not being good enough for him. After all, I was a good person and God wouldn't allow one of his "good people" to be in an abusive relationship, right? Right? Wrong.
Luckily I got out with just my self confidence destroyed, but still alive - and with a beautiful little girl. I went back to my life - living and loving Gigi. I was a good person that was in a bad situation and got out. More power to me!
Two years ago my nephew was diagnosed with Leukemia. But we are good people I shouted to God. Yes, shouted. God and I have had some pretty good shouting matches because who else is really going to take that? We.Are.Good.People.
My family dealt with that diagnosis. Mo - the one actually diagnosed - did MUCH better than any of the adults. My niece Lulu handled it with grace beyond her years. We learned, we loved him and we grew closer. It became just a "bump in the road." (and my sister may disagree with that statement as he is still in treatment - but it just became a different way of life for everyone).
But we are good people. Things like a 7 year old getting Leukemia don't happen to good people, right?
I wrote that off as a blip - a second where bad things DO happen to good people. We dealt. His parents dealt in their way, my parents in their way and me in my way. But yet? We were all still good people.
I lost my job in February the day after my mom had a nasty fall on the ice and I was very concerned about her. But I'm a good person. Nothing bad would happen to my mom, right? Luckily (because she is good person I'm sure) she suffered a pretty bad concussion but didn't have any permanent damage.
The job thing? Destroyed my self confidence and WHO I was. My parents helped pull me up by my bootstraps because...you guessed it...they are GOOD PEOPLE. The best in fact.
April 23rd 2010. 4:10 pm. My Daddy called me and told me he had a brain tumor. A BRAIN TUMOR. I knew he had been going to the doctor and having tests but surely it was something easily fixable. Or something that could maybe affect day to day but nothing serious. But he had a brain tumor.
But you know...that brain tumor was going to be benign because (say it with me) we are GOOD PEOPLE. Wrongo buckaroo. Not only not benign - but cancer and not removable at that. We made plans for the 5 years we were sure to have with him. Because no one had ever lived with a glioblastoma past the 5 year mark - but my Daddy was determined to be that one in a million. That one that survived 6 years. A simple 5 years would have meant seeing Lulu get her pilot's license and see her graduate. See the other grandchildren become actual little people instead of just crazy preschoolers. See the end of Mo's treatment and celebrate that wonderful day of his last chemo dose.
But then? Everything was wrong. Two and half months and he was...gone. But I'm a good person Lord, why do I have to suffer this pain? Why did I have to lose my Daddy so quickly? Why wasn't he allowed to be with us for more time?
We are good people...we deserved more time. Or so we thought. I felt entitled to MORE TIME - because after all, I'm a good person.
So what I have I learned? Bad things happen to good people. Good people suffer and good people get hurt. Good people miss the ones they love and still long for more time. Good people can want these things and admit these things and still be good people. Good people can yell at God - because seriously, who else would be able to take it?
Some days I feel like the blow up clown that people punch and just keeps popping back up (I'll save my hatred and intense fear of clowns for another post). C'mon - hit me again! And again! Try it again and I'll still keep popping up.
Today I feel like maybe that creepy clown has developed a hole. The air is slowly leaking and he doesn't bounce back. Someday it will be patched up.
Someday I will not feel the intense sadness I feel every single day right now. Someday I will be able to share memories and not tear up. Someday I will be able to see that everything does happen for a reason. Someday I will see my Daddy again in Heaven.
Because? I am a good person.
