Early Thursday Morning

Whenever I cannot sleep because my mind is going, going, going as if it were running a marathon that never ends, I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and force my mind to visualize myself laying cozily in the hand of God.  Usually after a few extra deep breaths, I can relax and go back to sleep. Thursday morning was not one of those times. I just couldn’t get comfortable in God’s hand this time. I’ve always felt “held” in the past, but at that moment, I did not.

I climbed carefully out of bed and walked out to the great room and looked outside to see if it was raining. It was dark and warm with a slight breeze but no rain. I opened the sliding door and walked with bare feet out and sat down on a damp chair, put my head down in my hands and began to sob.  I’ve been holding my emotions together by a thread lately and at that moment I just railed at God and the Universe into the gentle breeze, not with words, but with sobs and sighs and deep breaths.

My own sobbing brought me back to a time when my son was only 10 years old and had tried out for a travel baseball team that he had been involved with the previous year. I had just gone over to the park district to look at the posting of the players for the new season listed on the door of the building. His name was not included. As a mom of an anxious boy, I was very aware of how much he wanted to be a part of this team and a huge sense of disappointment rushed over me and I felt so helpless for him. It was probably the first real let-down that he was to experience, and I was going to have to be the one tell him.

I remember going in to work at the church preschool that morning and before facing anybody else, I went directly up into the sanctuary and sat down in the quiet space and prayed for peace and understanding…but inside I was a wreck. I didn’t speak out loud, but my thoughts railed at God as I looked up at the altar with sobs and sighs and deep breaths.

This memory kind of seems ridiculous now as I look back on it some 25 years after it happened. It seems like such an insignificant moment that in retrospect doesn’t even count in the course of life’s storms. However, it occurred to me on Thursday morning that after my current moment of despair, that my son had moved on after the disappointment. He joined a wonderful team, coached by his dad. They went on to win the championship at the local level and had a very good time with all of his friends, minus the pressure and the competitive nature of the whole “travel” team. It turned out just as it needed to be, just as God intended it to be.

I realized in that moment, that what we think is the “best” situation or solution to a problem may not be the “right” one. I’ve learned this multiple times, yet I still wail angrily at God when it doesn’t seem to be moving in MY preferred way…This living with uncertainty and disappointment while waiting for God to reveal WHAT the next thing is, is so difficult. I just keep forgetting the lessons I have learned.  

After I got the grief and anger out of my system, I knew that I was just being impatient. God was still holding me in the palm of his hand. My concern for my  children has not changed, nor do I think it ever will. The issues and concerns I pray over my children are related to health, mental health, job security, financial stability and the very lives of my grandchildren. All of these issues seem to be so much more important and life altering than 5th grade baseball in the grand scheme of things. It seemed as though I had been looking at “travel” baseball tryouts through a huge magnifying glass back when it happened. It seemed so very important at the time and it wasn’t easy to trust that things were going to work out, but they did. I longed to take the magnifying glass off of the current problems the my children were facing and tried to see them through a lens that would bring me closer to God. I want to trust, but then that darn doubt creeps into my brain in the wee hours of the night. I do know in my heart that the issues will resolve, one way or another, in God’s perfect timing.  He doesn’t seem to mind that I’m not a fan of His timing, but God is usually right. 

After my good crying jag and some sobering thoughts and realizations that I cannot control any of it, I swore at the devil out loud, 

“Leave me and my family alone, dammit!” and went back inside.  

I turned on the shower, stepped into it and let the warm water run over me as I stood there.  It felt to me like a renewal of my baptism.  The water was softly flowing over me and cleansing me as if it held the power of the Holy Spirit to restore me. The Spirit was rinsing away all of my resentments, fears, negative thoughts and anxieties. Afterwards, I felt better, stronger and closer to God. I was dressed and ready face the day by the time the sun began lightening the sky.

Gail Mehlan

June 2019

Flow

I woke up again with a cry and my heart palpitating and blood rushing through my veins…

”Honey…it’s okay.  You’re fine.  It was only a dream.” My husband reassured me.

It’s the same dream…but different circumstances each time.  I’m reaching for something very important to me, but somehow it’s out of reach. It eludes me and it’s gone…whatever it is that seems so important in the dream, and often I can’t even remember it…it’s gone…into the abyss of nightmares and unanswered prayers.

I awake unsettled after these dreams.  It’s as if I’ve experienced a great loss.  I struggle to return to sleep then, but try anyway saying a brief prayer…

“Lord, I know you’ve got me covered.  You’re with me. The sun will come up tomorrow and I will face a new day with joy.”

I’m not sure what the dream means for me. I suppose the subconscious speaks to us in dreams. But I’m not sure.

I realize when I’m fully awake that I’ve had and am still going through a series of enormous life changes. When our first grandchild was born, I’d set my heart and mind on finding a way to be closer to him and his family.  I wanted so much to be an involved grandma and I missed so much in his first few years because we lived about 3 hours away in another city.  I was determined to find a home nearer to my daughter and her family so that we could enjoy the grandkids and be a part of their lives on a daily basis.

I retired 3 years ago from a very fulfilling and engaging career as a teacher.  I loved my job and the children that made each day worth getting up for. I suppose that’s a loss, in a way.  In some ways, it’s a good loss.  I used to dream about the time I would have to sew, write, exercise and volunteer…I couldn’t wait to be able to travel and enjoy the golden years with my husband.

I wasn’t prepared for the sense of loss that I would feel.

We found a beautiful home on a wooded lot, with lake views in a small town near my daughter.  We put in an offer on the house and after several months of negotiations and ups and downs due to a short sale, the house was ours!

So much of that first summer, I spent alone working tirelessly to prepare the house to move into while my husband stayed in Chicago, working. I felt lonely.

We had a dream, but this separation became my new reality.

My mother in law, who had been very ill, passed away just two weeks before the birth of my 4^th grandchild. We physically moved a couple of months later, leaving our home of 20 years behind. My husband tried, but could not find work he wanted to do here, in our new place. My father in law fell and broke his hip and was placed in a nursing home/rehab facility. Back and forth to visit, take care of him. He passed away only 8 months after his wife died, alone, in a nursing home.

Lots of grief, memories, processing and sadness filled our days.

Even though we were trying to get excited about our new place, it still just didn’t feel like home.

Our son came to Chicago to work on his master’s degree.  We offered to let him live in our old house while he attended grad school.  We visit often, but it’s weird to have someone living in your former home…making it their own. No longer ours.  There have been many adjustments.

So I set out to get involved in our new area.  Here is a list of things I’ve tried to get more involved. I’ve enjoyed each one, and continue to do so,  but still haven’t felt a real sense of belonging.

Volunteering

Writing classes

Sewing for a non-profit organization, making wedding gowns into burial gowns.

Visiting many churches

Babysitting grandchildren

Substitute teaching

Still, after a year, an entire year, I have felt:

Frustrated

Discouraged

Lonely

Through all of these transitions and changes, the biggest challenge has been making new friends and feeling like I belong here…in this home, in this community, in this world as it is…I feel lonely.  I do not feel known.

I can’t seem to find my rhythm or my space here.

I find myself thinking about what I can do to really focus on what’s good about my life right now.  I don’t want to focus any longer on what’s making me feel lonely. If I do then I continue to walk down the path of discouragement and resentment.

I have daily tried to turn my attention and focus on maintaining a heart of gratitude for…

Beautiful lake views

Beautiful home

Visitors (especially those that know me!)

Quiet Days and not so quiet ones, when I am needed to be “grandma” or “mom”

New grandbaby

Sick kids (Grandma is needed!)

Family is coming for dinner…cooking cleaning, enjoyment and frustration all in the same breath…at the same moment

Finding a new faith community

Stepping out of the comfort zone of being “known”

New relationships

Listening, opening my heart

Having time to spend with my husband, getting to know each other in new ways

Opportunities for travel

Here’s what I’ve learned and what I’m learning…

I have entered into a new FLOW of life.

Back and Forth.

Back and Forth.

This FLOW is not necessarily BAD, and it doesn’t have to be lonely, either.

I dedicate myself to this new flow, and I give myself grace for the resentments, the grief, and the loneliness I’ve felt as I adjust to these new ideas and this new place. I will develop a sense of curiosity about my new life and new people.   

What is waiting around the corner for me…a new friend? 
A new interest?   
What could that interest be? 
How can I be a blessing to someone here?   
What am I being invited to do?

I will try to lean into the unknown with an attitude of  “gracious” expectancy. I believe God has invited me to something special. I must accept this invitation and expect the positive.  I hope I can become aware of how my whole being is involved with new things…how does it fit me? If it feels good, go with it. If not, leave it for someone else who fits it better. But don’t be afraid to try it out and notice.

Notice…

If I tune in my peripheral vision to what’s happening in my life and read that too, not just what is in plain sight, I may be able to experience a deeper level of living.  Sometimes the next good or right thing is just a bit off to the left…or to the right...and I won’t see it if I’m laser focused on only what’s in front of me. I need a broader perspective.

I know as well that I must allow myself the space and time to grieve. It takes time to work through the grief of losing a parent and the loss of leaving a life we worked hard to build.  It takes time to make adjustments to the new rhythms of my life and accept them as the new “normal”.

My plans to sew and write, craft and decorate could be FOR me or maybe NOT.  I must accept the current FLOW.  But I can’t be afraid to shift course if need be. I can’t be afraid to say “NO” to the things that don’t fit.  I can’t force myself to FIT into something that is not me.

After a long vacation, and an exciting one.  It was good to be back HOME again.

I am learning to accept the new reality of what my life is and could become here.

I am anxious to get on with it.

Am I OPEN to the NEW flow of my life? I am working on it by…

Relishing the OLD. Keeping my memories, ideas, hopes, dreams…

Trusting God to continue to speak to me through my past experiences and my new situation.

Letting go of the “things” of the PAST.  There are “things” that burden us with their physical presence. Cleaning out the stuff that isn’t serving you any more is important. Take the time to do that.

My son told me a story of a seed laden dandelion, soft and feathery, ready to go out into the world.  He said when we blow on it, it scatters and then the seeds are just out there…to grow or not.  Once we’ve blown them away, we cannot get them back, we don’t have that control.  Our ideas and dreams are kind of like that too.  Once we let go of them, we can’t grab them back…even if they are our hopes and dreams. What grows is what takes root in soil that is ready for it. Reality is.  When something takes root, we can look to that and that alone as our current present reality. Just like in my dream, sometimes you can’t hold onto things forever.  
If it doesn’t fit anymore, let it go…

Gail Mehlan

October 31, 2016