It is good

This post is going to be vague, but I realized my last two posts have been about death, and many of the others heavy with my aches and pain.

And I needed to tell you {whoever you are reading} that I’m good. I am truly joyful right now, even in the midst of these sad days.

Because good things are happening, things that make me smile REALLY big all the time seemingly for no reason.

And I keep thinking about how death is an important part of nature, the cycle of things, and in order for new life to be created there must be death. Forests burn so new growth can happen, flowers fade so new blooms form. We must allow parts of ourselves to die in order to find newness.

I’m excited for the new in my life, even though it looks similar to things from the past, its new and different with a touch of the comfortable familiar, and its good.

{PLUS my birthday is a week away, and I’m gonna wear my flower crown to dinner the night of my birthday, and a sparkly dress at my party that friday and I’m going to wallow in the outpouring of love I’ll receive. I love birthdays, especially my own. I just love a reason to be loud and silly and spend time with people I adore}

A memory about Keith

A memory: March 2009

I’m in his office trembling. I’m supposed to be sharing my story with a group of 80+ people. Maybe 5 of which know it already, know the extent of the pain I have suffered. He tells me that being really open, telling memories, including lots of details is what people really enjoy in stories. I nod and know I have written my story the best I know how. He squeezes my hand and tells me I’ll be great.

It’s a few minutes before I’m supposed to go onto the stage and share. I am nauseous with fear. He and a few others are praying over me, and when he opens his mouth to speak I feel warmth spreading over me and my nerves are suddenly gone. I open my eyes in surprise and across the circle he is looking at me. He gives me an encouraging smile and I feel confident.

I share my story, the abuse I suffered as a child, but how my heart has been softened. That I had found in my heart the capacity to forgive my abuser That if not for the faith I found, I would be impossibly lost. As I finish, dissolving into tears I walk off stage into the arm’s of my youth pastor, Matt. Keith walks on stage and tears are in his eyes, his voice shakes as he proclaims my strength and courage. He tells me my story will change the world, and I believe him. He’s the first person to say something like this that I truly believe. He asks the band to play How He Loves, and I sing along loudly as tears pour down my cheeks. I never knew how this song would hold so much weight.

That night I’m on the way home and receive a text from Keith. “Please count Debbie and I as parents to you. We love you Shelby, I’d be honored to call you a daughter.” I could feel a shift in my heart, God was putting another piece back together.

—

When Keith died last year, I and many others were shaken to the core. He had impacted so many lives. Today my heart aches for the sorrow I feel, but even more for the unimaginable grief I know his sons and other family have experienced. I was lucky to know him for four years, and count those years as treasure. He shaped many lives with his love and passion. He raised three awesome sons who I feel lucky to know. I adore his family, and still feel blessed they count me as one of their own. We all miss him greatly, but find comfort in knowing he’s in heaven.

It’s Complicated

Love of all forms is complicated {understatement of the year}.

What’s really complicated is when the most sincere love you have from somebody, is complicated for others. Does that make sense?
It does to me. Because it is basically the relationship I had with my grandpa. My grandma has said more than once “You’re the only person he truly loved” in regards to my grandpa since his death. She tells me I am the only person he ever truly loved, not her, or his first wife, or his six children, or my brother. But me, the girl who was terrified of men her entire life captured the heart of a man who was seen as gruff, strict, and honestly straight up mean by his wife of more than 40 years and the children he raised.

Grandpa was an alcoholic (but had not touched alcohol for years by the time we moved in), a Captain in the Navy — he was strict, militaristic, he married my Grandma, and they had a very rocky and complicated relationship.

But I did not know this man. My grandpa opened his home, heart and arms, to a 10 and 11 year old when their mother dropped the ball. The 11 year old was an angry hurt boy, and the ten year old was a little girl who feared the world, but presented a shiny bright smile to the world loving it unconditionally. Maybe this is why Grandpa loved me so? Because he saw the hurting, but also saw how I always tried to give only love.

My grandpa, the man I knew read the paper every morning and saved the funnies for me.

He drove my brother, neighbors, and I down to the bus stop anytime it rained.

He loved huge blueberry muffins, and his coffee black.

He got teary eyed when I came into the living room in my long purple dress for eighth grade formal and went on and on about how pretty I was.

He did the same when I was in 9th grade wearing a lime green gown for military ball.

He  did again and insisted on a picture with me when I was in my bright blue dress for my junior prom.

And once again in my little blue and black dress for my senior year prom, and he said he couldn’t believe how grown up I looked.

He was always willing to drive me anywhere I needed to be and we always listened to talk radio. He didn’t even complain when he had to get up and take me to work every day of the summer at 6AM and he was glad to pick me up if needed too.

He bought me box after box of saltine crackers, and frosted mini wheats after the first time I told him they were my favorite.

He scooped me ice cream every night when the ice cream was too frozen for me to get it out easily.

When I went away to college he told me how much he missed me in the mornings, I got two coffee mugs made with my picture on them and he used them nearly every day.

He hugged me and kissed me as if it had been years when I came home every single weekend my freshmen year.

Even as he got sicker from Parkinson’s Disease and Cancer, he would light up every time I came home.

He may not have been the best husband or father, but I believe he gained some sort of redemption by being the greatest Grandpa a broken little girl could’ve ever needed.

Today is his birthday, and I miss him greatly. RIP Grandpa

A birthday wishlist

Just incase you were wondering, these things make my heart pitter-patter.

Things my friends have created:

1. Enrollment in the soulsigh ecourse

2. Subscription to rightbrain planner

3. A custom secret message from Mandy

4. Subscription to Mandy’s Secret Message Zine

5. Pre-order of Mandy’s book Thrashing About With God

6. Something pretty from Lovingly Blessed

(^^^ Those are all the things I plan on spending any birthday money I get on)

Other Stuff:

8. Chocolate covered espresso beans

9. Macklemore’s album The Heist

10. A record player

11. Gift card to target or amazon or hallelu