Posts Tagged ‘The Moments We Stand’

Day 112: Blood {a recap}

In Uncategorized on June 11, 2014 at 8:32 pm

Last night I sat down at my computer to do my weekly read of my favorite blogs. I read this post, entitled Blood, and the beauty of it inspired me so much that I was led to share bits of it here too {although I encourage you to head over and read the post through and through yourself.}

Blog author Ashley, describes an experience, after her husband’s murder, one that would involve the literal blood of her dead husband, her children, a lifelong lesson, and a message that strength and endurance can come from those bad things we chance upon in life.

It had been some time after Ashley’s husband’s murder, and the authorities were finally ready to release Ashely’s husband’s truck. It arrived at her house, and quickly became a feared object. This truck was parked near her husband when he was killed, it was the last place he had “been,” and it held clues, possibly, to the last things he did during his lifetime.

Ashley stood in the driveway, keys in her hand, but only opened the truck, and entered it, upon the pleading of her little boy. She describes what follows as a beautiful and touching experience–one-by-one each of Ashley’s children made their way to the vehicle. They explored every last bit of it, looked through their Dad’s gym bag, put his ear phones in their ears, pushed every button, anything, everything, they could do to bring a little piece of their Dad back. Or, at the very least, make him feel closer.

During all of this Ashley’s new husband arrived home, and quickly he motioned to her what was awaiting on the other side of the truck…her husband’s blood–it had not been washed off by the authorities. Crying, Ashley ran into the house to escape to her ‘safe’ place. In the quiet of her closet, she transitioned from her common pleading “can I have a do-over?” to “when is this going to be over?”

What Ashley found when she emerged from her closet and made her way to the window, was not crying children as she had expected. Instead, she found giggling kids, soapy, with her new husband, washing the truck clean of the blood that once belonged to their Father. Each child was proud to be making their Daddy’s possession beautiful and clean just like he would have wanted it while he was alive.

The lesson Ashley learned that day was a big one.

Sometimes I find myself asking for my do-over, begging for it as Ashley had, and when things just get so bad that I feel I can’t go on, I ask, “when is this trial going to be over?” In asking those questions though, we fail to see the beauty that can become from the hurt. We fail to see the joy in ‘washing away the blood of the past’ for something that will, eventually, be clean and new. We are denied the opportunity to meet and experience the people who can help us wash away the blood. Ashley reminds us at the close of her post, ‘not many are willing to take on such heartbreaking burdens in life, but God knows who you are, and in doing so, that’s what makes you so special.’

Day 105: Dreams

In Dreams on March 13, 2014 at 2:17 am

It has been a long time since I have written anything on this blog because, to be honest, I haven’t known what to write. Not because things haven’t been happening to me–they have. It’s been more a matter of fear, fear that my words written on here might somehow change my dreams.

Today I realized fear cannot govern this blog, and so here I sit ready to write again.

I’ve been thinking a lot about dreams lately and, coincidentally, so was this person. In fact, everyday when I need an uplifting moment I turn to this blog and just the right words appear on my screen. A small miracle for me.

Opposite to her, I never dreamed of being solely a mother. I knew I wanted to be a mom, but I knew I also wanted a career. Sometimes our long hoped for dreams get away from us and we realize the ones that replace them are “better” for us. When I think of all the things I do well in my life, I can’t think of one job I’ve done better than being a mom. This was never a painstakingly imagined dream that I scoured over everyday of my young adult life, being a mom, but it’s one I’ve come to know I needed just as much as it needed me. It’s a dream better than any of those that I had envisioned; ones of me working in a suit and bossing a bunch of professional men around. In fact, I’ve actually come to see that dream for an inkling, the business women one, and it wasn’t as great, as fulfilling as I’d imagined it.

Today, I realized, it’s that dream I had to be a high-powered woman–that’s the dream that has hurt me the most. It has punched me in the stomach as I’ve failed at it, it has told me I’m not good enough, it has even brought me to knees crying. Though, it’s the other dream, the one that hid in the back of my mind, that dream has brought me such delight, it has brought me to tears in happiness, it given me strength on my weakest days, it has whispered to me so many times “you are enough.” It has never brought me wealth or power, but it has taught me the greatness of sacrifice and selfless devotion.

I’m reading Meaty by Samantha Irby, in a book that seems so “dirty” and, to be honest, crude at times, there is so much honesty. This honesty is about dreams too. In one essay Irby gets really real, she talks about raising her daughter–her very own mother. Behind the sarcasm flows the dreams, the dream of owning a telephone so she wouldn’t have to walk down the street to the fire station when her ‘daughter’s’ legs quit working, the dream of being able to take real Oreos to a school party instead of the off-brand Hydrox ones, the dream of knowing sooner that if she looked clean and got her homework done then she could keep living the dream of raising her ‘daughter’ and no one would ask questions. She talks about realities too though, in fact that’s where her essay ends, seeing her ‘daughter’ without her dentures lying on her deathbed. Her entire life her ‘daughter’ had only taken those dentures out in some late night escapades where she’d gather her cane and  pretend to be a witch. But here, on her deathbed, Samantha saw the truth–she really looked more like a [sweet] baby.

It’s true that dreams can be as big as having a high-powered career and finishing a master’s degree and as small as buying name brand Oreos for a party. The truth is though, no matter how big or small dreams are sometimes they just aren’t reality. And sometimes, reality is better than the biggest dream.

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