Summer Dreaming

“We are music makers, and we are dreamers of dreams.”

–Roald Dahl

            A few weeks ago, with the shifting of the weather and my sights set on the faint glimmer of summer’s arrival, I felt something stir deep in my soul. Each time I sat down to chip away at my to-do list, my mind wandered. It started slowly at first, but what began as a few simple daydreams soon turned into something I couldn’t stop thinking about.  My mind wandered to warm nights on porches, fireflies over fields, and hammocks strung between trees. It seemed like every time I allowed it to, my mind wanted to dream.  So I let it.  This weekend I finally sat down & channeled the dreams into something tangible. It came onto paper in the form of a bucket list. While I was once worried about my first summer in Nashville, I am excited for the prospect of a southern summer in a city I am quickly growing to love. The list is a work in progress. There are items that are failed attempts at past bucket lists which embody desires I’ve had for years, items that are iconic Nashville “must-do” events, and some that are just fun lines from sentimental country songs, that if I am completely honest, I really hope get crossed off.  Here are a few highlights:

One: Join the East Nasty Running Club: 

            I haven’t really mentioned it before, but on April 27^th I am running the St. Jude Music City Half Marathon. Throughout this semester, I have enjoyed training for this race with some of my favorite friends who also happen to be classmates. I am fascinated by the fact that I can (fairly) painlessly get my body to run 13.1 miles. Once the race is over, I want to continue what I’ve started, & the The East Nasty Running Club seems like the perfect way to do this. For my Fort Collins friends, East Nashville reminds me SO much of The Fort. Running through it is good for my heart in more than one way.

Two: Become a share holder with a local farm:

            I’ve had a long-standing vision of being a backyard chicken and vegetable farmer. Maybe it’s been instilled in my small town, Colorado soul, but I dream about walking into my back yard to collect eggs and fresh veggies each morning. The problem with now is I live in an apartment, in the city, & while I did entertain the thought of it here for a brief minute or so, doing this myself just isn’t going to fly. The good news is, I can reap the benefits of local farming, without doing it myself through community shared agriculture. Think what you might about the type of person who participates in a CSA, [& you’re probably correct] but this stuff is cool.

Here are the ones I’m checking out: Green Door Gourmet & Real Food Farms

Three: Watch the sunrise from Café Coco’s porch:

            It’s officially patio-sitting weather here in Nashville.  This place is open 24 hours & I have fallen in love with the people-watching, the vanilla Italian cream sodas, and strangely enough, the frequently failing internet that forces me to stop working for a bit to chat with my neighbors. I am excited for the conversations to be had on this porch.

Here’s to dreaming. 

-Laura

Reflections on a Year of Growth

“Rejoice, my heart. You’ve been made whole by a love that will not let you go.”

        Just hours before I found myself sobbing in his passenger seat, I had clicked “publish” to my most recent blog post titled,  “1095 days.” The irony in the documentation of our third anniversary on the day he broke up with me stole the breath from my lungs, but seemed eerily conclusive at the same time. For a moment, I almost appreciated how on-schedule things had come full circle. In that moment, I saw our entire relationship-- from the moment he bravely grabbed my hand, 1095 days before, to this conversation in his passenger seat-- flash before me. Despite knowing in my deepest heart that our expiration date had arrived, I remember thinking, “If he were to propose in this very moment, my answer would be ‘yes’.” I knew nothing about how much could change in a year.

            The following days were a blur of crying-induced migraines followed by emotional numbness. I didn’t know it then, but the numbness would stay with me for a while. For the first time in my life, I was afraid to be alone & I found every excuse to be in a room full of strangers as often as possible. I avoided anyone who knew me, [who knew us] because tangled within my broken heart lived the fear that verbalizing our break-up validated its reality. Denial seeped into my bones,  & immediately, I began preparing for restoration. For 3 weeks, I waited for his call. I waited for his realization that letting me go was the biggest mistake he’d ever made, & I waited for God to just answer what I asked of him: Why wouldn’t he just fix things? I knew nothing about how much could change in a year.

        I spent the next 8 months floundering in and out of frustration with my heart’s inability to heal, & if I’m really honest, still waiting for that call.  I dreamt of him every night for weeks at a time, and I feared each morning that followed because it brought the perpetual discovery that brokenness was my reality. Each day felt like the rebirth of sadness, devoid of healing. My heart ached like it never had before. I knew nothing about how much could change in a year.

-----

Here I am, a year later. For the first time in 4 years, I watched April 8^th pass without any significant value besides the fact that the weather here in Nashville was the most beautiful it’s been in quite some time. The year that has passed since I sat in his passenger seat for the last time has been so different than I ever imagined. I dreaded this day for so long. While there were countless moments of peace and understanding, there were also moments when I genuinely believed I wouldn't know happiness again. But as each day passed, I slowly rebuilt my life without him, finding sincere joy in the process. I discovered the miraculous beauty of being honest with myself & others, and I began to taste the sweetness of redemption in a way I've never known before. I will forever remember this year as a time when I learned true surrender, deep healing, & the freedom of a foundational trust in the direction of my life by a loving, gentle God. I felt what I never thought I'd feel: This chapter is over, & it's good.

On this day,  I have more to be thankful for than I ever thought possible. As I reflect on the past year, I can truthfully say that I am falling in love with the day-to-day journey I am on.

 I know much about what can change in a year.

-Laura

Mental Health & Brokenness

“There are some who take anti-depressants and communion and there are those who think both are a crutch.” –Ann Voskamp

Last Saturday, upon hearing the news that Rick Warren’s son had committed suicide after a long battle with depression and mental illness, my heart broke.  My heart broke for his family & those who knew him well, & my heart broke for the realization of depravity, that death always seems to reveal. Despite our efforts to recognize the beauty that can result after it is over, death is never a pretty thing.

Humans weren’t meant to suffer.

Humans weren’t meant to take their own lives.

Humans weren’t meant to die.

           But as it often does, heartbreak reveals the disintegration of what was meant to be.  Hearts weren’t meant to break. But they do, & their brokenness mirrors a broken world that will continue to break, aching to be redeemed. On Saturday, I found myself painfully aware of my desire for redemption here. I wanted it now.

          When I chose to pursue occupational therapy, I knew that mental health would be a world I would become submersed in. Despite my habituation to the topic, hearing about these tragedies never gets easier for me. & I hope it never does.  As I first sat down to write this post, I wanted to talk about the broader scope of public opinion behind mental health. But after reading comment after comment about how this man’s death could have and should have been prevented-most lacking a shred of compassion or understanding for the complexity behind depression & mental illness- I changed my mind. I couldn’t handle the stigmas I found, the ignorance, or the lack of sensitivity for such a painful subject. My cynicism didn’t need the fuel. Instead, I found myself thinking about the bigger picture. Not everybody is depressed. Not everybody wants to take his or her own life. But everybody is broken.

He is.

I am.

You are.

Thoughts like this keep me up at night, but thankfully, that is not the end of the story.  All week, I’ve been thinking about the conclusion that is yet to come—the redemption that I feel my heart longing for, where there is no more death, longing, or pain.  My heart aches for it now, but I can rest in the promise that it is coming. 

“Light pried through the dark. A shaft came through the window like a lifeline.  & The birds sang, & we heard them.” 

Thursday Thankfulness [April]

This evening I sat outside & listened to the rain. 

I shivered a little bit, but I was captivated by the unsteady beat of the raindrops

on the plastic awning that was keeping me dry. 

24 hours before, I sat at the same coffee shop, in

a T-shirt, finishing a good book in good company. 

On both nights, I found myself thankful.

[Thankfulness today:]
1. Rain
2. Good books
3. Home stretch of school
4. 80 degree sunshine
5. Weekly goals & conviction
6. Finishing fieldwork
7. Learning surrender
8. 1 year of growth [more on this soon]
9. 10-mile runs that don't kill me
10. Bible study

What Might Have Been [Part 2]

          Every once in a while, I experience an epiphany that I've already had before. They are the same thoughts twice, & the only difference between the two is the recognition that I have changed between the first and second occurrences. This morning, as I sat in church, I had an overwhelming realization that this was happening. For almost an hour, I sat in contemplation of how my life has progressed over the past 12 months and how things might have been had things not have unfolded the way they did.

           I have dreaded the month of April for an entire year now. It hasn’t hung as heavy upon me recently as it once did, but the idea of a year passing has gently pressed on my mind on good days, & pervasively stolen my concentration on bad ones. While sitting in the darkened sanctuary this morning, thoughts regarding “what might have been” leaked into my mind in the softest way possible at first, but before I knew it, I could think of nothing else. 

[I’ve mentioned it before, but this tends to be how thoughts sneak up on me.]

            Back in June, I was reading “Bittersweet” by Shauna Niequist and was struck by the truth that time was passing like it always does, yet my circumstances were drastically changing. I was crippled by an inability to fix things or slow life down, and I wrote this blog post. In that moment, I dreaded the following year more than I’ve dreaded anything. The proceeding months after that post brought a slow wave of peace into my heart, & until this morning, I genuinely thought I wouldn’t think of it again.

            But this morning I did. As I confronted the beauty that has unfolded in the recent months, I became instantly overcome by thankfulness that things did not happen like they might have last April. Sacrifices that I could have [& was willing] to make don’t need to be made. Compromises that I could have [& was willing] to make don’t need to be made. I am so very thankful for the opportunity I was given to start new. It’s a new year, and I am thankful for it. 

Lessons on Patience & appreciating now.

Maybe I am a particularly oblivious person & I need all the hints I can get, but for some reason, when I’m learning a lesson, I am reminded of its theme e v e r y w h e r e. The conversations I have with people, the books I am reading, and even the media I am currently consuming all seem to point to the presence of whatever truth I need to learn. I appreciate it, because I am so easily distracted, that I often need more than one reminder of the important lessons that come my way.

            I wrote about it in my year-end review, but it seems that the theme so far of 2013 for me is patience. As I sit here on April 5, I can’t help but recognize that the lesson I was learning at the turn of the year is the lesson I am still learning. Even as I write this, the thought of “Aren’t I done learning that, yet?”  has fluttered through my mind once or twice. The irony of that thought’s impatience actually just made me laugh.  Nope, I’m not done learning patience, yet.

            Lately my impatience has manifested itself from the newness of spring and the signs of new life all around me. I am finally feeling the deep peace that was promised to me after the most difficult year of my life, (a post on this will come soon) & I am already experiencing the excitement of restoration and hopefulness of a new year.  But, I find it remarkable how quickly I exchange this fresh start for uncertainty and restlessness for my future.  Almost instantaneously, it seems, I replace hope with distrust and courage with fear. I find myself itching to make things work how I want them to, & a heavy discouragement settles on my soul when things don’t move at the pace or direction I desire them to.

            As prevalent as my impatience has been lately, I have found reminders of appreciating now more abundant yet. I am thankful for reminders that convince me of the beautiful simplicity that results from a patient lifestyle. Something tells me this patience journey will be a lifelong one for me, but today, I am happy to wait.