Author Archives: Julie

Year of Adjustment

The 26th wedding anniversary is frequently a year of adjustment being the picture anniversary.

I stumbled across these words on this site while exploring anniversary gift options and thought to myself, Seriously? That has been every year! Then I began reading the descriptions of years and laughed out loud at the introduction to 27.

Anniversary celebrations have felt as hap-hazard as everything else in our life and are often a yearly struggle for me. There is the tension between what is expected to be felt and what is real. Hallmark does not help matters and neither does the idea that the more years you check off together the better it gets.

A thriving marriage is about more than checking off the years and winning with the highest number of them.

Our 25th anniversary, the one that is silver, the one I remember throwing a party for my parents for while wrangling two small children of my own, two and a half years into my newly-minted marriage, brought the realization that we needed help. It was a sad disappointment of a day steeped in years of hurt with a side of genuine illness.

We have GOT to do something, because we cannot go on like this.

We will forever remember our silver anniversary as the one where we chose to invest in counseling to gain skills that were lacking in order to move forward together in more hopefulness. Seriously. There is no shame in admitting need. It was one of the best decisions we have made.

Fast forward to this year’s celebration. I decided to create a gift for Steve. It took thought, time, energy, and trust to sit with myself and my art supplies and create from the heart a representation of where we are in this season.

It is a better, more hopeful, place.

While a lake house getaway was booked, logistics did not work out. In the past this would have completely derailed my heart, sending it into a place of hopelessness and defeat. Instead, I was able to reimagine our celebration.

Steve took the day off of work, and we spent it together while the kids were in school. A two-hour weather delay for them meant time to sleep in without rushing, and while it cut into two hours of morning alone time, we were still able to enjoy the quiet house before heading out on an afternoon adventure.

We went to lunch at Valley Pike Farm Market before visiting Zeus Digital Theaters to see The Greatest Showman together. It was the perfect use for tickets I had won in a radio contest over a year ago!

Family members graciously picked up kids from school for us. We arrived home at 4 and took a nap before heading out to dinner at Chick Fil A with the family. The day ended with a parent meeting for school musical and an episode of Stranger Things.

It was a sweet beginning to year 27 and imagining more of our future together.

Bible Reading Plan

Time with my Bible and journal is something I have held close since at least fifteen, maybe younger. In seventh grade there was mandatory quiet time at the beginning of each Bible class where we were to read a passage referenced on the chalkboard and write our thoughts about it in a spiral notebook, but by fifteen it was something I did just for me.

I have a distinct memory of thinking I knew God loved me when I was fifteen, and since he can’t change, he HAS to still love me now during a time of particular distress. During years of distress. From sixteen to thirty-six. Twenty years is a long time to wander.

Maybe that is one reason I cannot give up on people even when things appear pretty hopeless. God did not give up on me.

I remember the journal that I threw away along with all of my other spiral notebooks and childish writings and hopes and dreams for the future when I was sixteen and preparing to move far away from all I knew and loved. That padded, floral, lined book held what was close to my heart and all that I had to say to, and hear from, God.

I can feel the contents of that journal in my spirit when I remember sitting in the floral club chairs, purchased at a yard sale with my own money, in the lavender basement bedroom in Oakton. That is where I would go for solace and peace. That was my own space.

Thirty years ago I was boxing up hopes and throwing away dreams and beginning to lay the foundation for the walls that would come to enclose my heart. A pile of Glamour magazines made the cut for the moving truck while my awards and achievements and memories did not. The box of magazines hit the curb shortly after we arrived at our destination, 1,100 miles away from all that was familiar.

When is trash pickup here?

I have read through the Bible countless time in several different versions. Last year I followed a chronological reading plan. It was interesting but heavy on the Old Testament for most of the year. It was a welcome relief to hit the New Testament in October.

This year’s plan reads from a different section of the Bible each day of the week. This lines up with how I am trying to restructure other areas of my life to focus on structuring specific areas in the midst of imagining a bigger picture.

What about you? Where do you find inspiration and hope for your heart? Do you follow a particular plan for Bible reading or journaling? I would love to hear about it. Share with me in the comments!

 

Word

It is 3:42pm New Year’s Eve afternoon, and I still have not written this post. Every time I start, I read over the introduction and hit backspace. A lot. Writing and the idea of writing are two very different things.

I have known my word for a week, maybe longer. I shared it with two people close to my heart, and they heard me well. I art journaled it.

There are many ideas in my head for an introduction. Lots of backstory. It seems there is always the lead up, and this year is no exception.

Words of years gone by have had a retrospective feel. They met me in where I was in the present while focusing on processing and making peace with the past. Heal. Hope. Embrace. Return. Restore. Persist.

This has been good and necessary, considering that for a long time, I was just stuck. One year I did not write much more than Scripture verses in my journal, because everything sounded the same. I knew that God’s Word would not return void, and that is where I landed.

I am grateful for the rescue that came.

This year is bringing a new thing.

I am ready to risk looking forward and opening to something that was lost long ago. I am ready to imagine.

My inability to imagine has caused no small distress over these past few months, which have been full of people asking me what’s next. Journaling feelings about my inability to imagine for myself while being gifted at seeing for others has led me to ponder more deeply where I lost imagination and relegated myself to the sidelines. Wise guides have come alongside to help me understand.

It was this post by Tracy Johnson that offered more words and insight as to how and when I might have lost myself. I felt invited to explore more. I was prompted to revisit The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel Van Der Kolk, MD, and reread the parts relating to imagination and creativity. This quote resonated deeply.

When people are compulsively and constantly pulled back into the past, to the last time they felt intense involvement and deep emotions, they suffer from a failure of imagination, a loss of mental flexibility. Without imagination there is no hope, no chance to envision a better future, no place to go, no goal to reach. (The Body Keeps the Score, 17)

I am grateful to be in a place of healing from past wounds and to have help in moving forward.

I don’t know what this year will look like, I guess that is part of imagining, but I am open and excited for what is to come.

Thank you, Dear Readers, for continuing to show up and engage. I am curious about how the word imagine resonates with you and about what word you have chosen for this year, if any.

Feel free to share in the comments!

Here is to more than we could ever imagine in 2018.

 

 

 

 

Final Day

It sounds dramatic. The final day of 2017! Here we are. Here I am.

The 2018 word post is in progress, meaning, I should probably get that thing written. The thoughts in my head sound more eloquent than those coming out through the keys beneath my fingers. I escape into cyberspace and Facebook, reminding me of why it’s a good idea that I am breaking from it in the new year.

I have done so in the past and wrote about it here.

I have processed the feeling of being unfriended here.

I most recently pondered the idea of remaining connected here.

The final morning of 2017 found me in and out of the service at church, feeling big feelings and facing hard realities. There were tears of this kind. There was a trip to the ladies’ room to fallback and regroup. As I looked in the mirror while washing my hands, the eyes of an inquisitive little face topped with a head of red curls met mine.

She smiled tentatively. I smiled back through the sad while wiping mascara streaks from my cheeks and commenting on the dilemma of wearing makeup while crying. We connected for a sweet moment.

I want to cling to the sweetness of innocence and the hope of new beginnings even in the midst of what feels so hard. It is easy to default to anger and let that be what spills out when it is the grief that beckons.

So this final day, these final hours bring a mixture of both grief and joy, laughter and tears, hope and sorrow. I look forward to celebrating tonight with family and watching the performers in my crew do their things, and at the end of the night raising a glass to toast all that is and that was and all that is to come.

Amen.

Final Saturday

I sit in the final Saturday of 2017 surrounded by binders and journals and books and baskets of laundry. Family members are out and about running errands or socializing with friends. One is resting on the couch, uncertain of how she is feeling. I stop to care for her and warm up a heating pad occasionally. Chicken noodle soup was prepared for her lunch.

Earlier in the kitchen my husband looked at me with the face. I know it well. It is a half-smirk that tries to cover and hide the feeling behind it, but I am too vigilant for that and know there is something going on inside his head. Rather than guessing at it, I ask.

What? What is that face for?

What face? I don’t have a face!

Yes you do. There is clearly a face, and I am curious about it.

We banter back and forth a bit, as he insists it is nothing when I know better. He finally caves.

I was just wondering if you have fallen into your end-of-the-year processing funk, yet?

Laughter ensues from us both, because I am aware enough to be able to laugh at what is obvious about me, and he is courageous enough to name it. Family members are growing safer in being able to share how they experience me, and for that growth I am grateful.

Secretly, I feel pleased to be known and seen so well by my life-partner. It has not always been so. There have been many unseen and unheard years resulting in much hurt that we have worked hard at uncovering and naming this year.

And, yes, I am in my final 48 hour funk, sort of. Not really. It is a strange ambivalence.

It feels different this year. Still ponderous, but in a hopeful sort of way. There is anticipation of things to come in the midst of uncertainty. If anything there is a temptation to panic that time is running out, and I must do all the things.

Time is running out, but I do not have to do all the things. I can do just what is before me next and move in gratefulness for what has been and what is to come.

Words of Years Gone By

I sit at the extreme end of the day on December 29, 2017, not wanting it to end but knowing it must. This is how I am aware of growth. There is too much to do, to learn, to experience, and I do not want to miss any of it.

I have spent much of the day thinking of the words of years gone by. I spent time with my youngest sis pondering and processing over coffee. She knows my choice but has promised to keep it to herself until January 1. So has my luvvvvah, who also knows. These two met almost 30 years ago and have been constants in my life ever since.

Words of years gone by.

I am not sure when I began keeping track of them. The blog tells me that the first was was heal. That was in 2012. Subsequent years were hope, embrace, return, restore, and persist.

Old journals may reveal otherwise, but there is this sense I have that for many years I felt as if I were doing the same year over and over again. I longed for and cried out for growth that just would not come.

I am grateful for growth.

I am incredibly ambivalent about recognizing growth.

So at this day’s end, I sit in the tension. I bask in the joy of witnessing my drummer son creating music and my husband creating in the kitchen. I sit in a space of curiosity and openness to what is coming in 2018 while not wanting to miss a moment of what is left in 2017.

The last of the tucking of children into bed has finally happened and the remaining bit of hangout time with my man is left, so I will sign off for now.

What about you, Dear Reader? What are you anticipating in the new year? I look forward to hearing your word or intention or hope or dream and to sharing mine with you very soon.

Staying Connected

As 2017 winds down and I ponder changes on the horizon, one of the biggest is finding and working out a balance between virtual and real life connection. On the one hand, the blog’s link to social media offers a broad base of connection with readers. It gives opportunity for liking and sharing. On the other, it provides too many windows for me to look through, inviting much distraction.

Many times I have considered deactivating my personal Facebook account but then hesitated due to the prospect of losing that connection with readers. There is some tidying I plan to do in the new year, but I am not sure exactly how it will look. I am fairly confident it will involve rearranging social media.

That said, if you wish to stay in the blog loop and have not done so already, please consider signing up to receive email notifications of new posts. Should I do some deleting and shifting and moving, I would love to have you along for the ride. I at least want to have given you fair warning.

This April will mark five years since the beginning. My blog, like other parts of my story, is evolving and finding its place in the world. I am looking at where it has been and where it is to see where it might be going.

I feel grateful for those of you who already faithfully read and encourage me to keep writing. I am grateful to those of you who like and follow the Facebook Page. From the beginning, I have wanted this to be a place where people choose to come and read and be met right where they are.

I am thankful for all of you who have done just that.

So as you read and engage and ponder your own changes coming into the new year, consider how you may want to stay connected, and know that I value each of you and what you bring to my cyber, and real, life.

Blessings, Friends!