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Thirty Years of Quiet

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

It was less than a week; a mere five days after my previous post, I received a phone call, one I never expected to receive. Not because I was not warranted a call, but simply because I did not know how someone would possibly contact me when I knew so little myself. As I mentioned in that last post, it has just been in the past few years that I finally took the time to face my pain and sorrow and deal with the grief that was consuming me.

I was house sitting and watching football when my phone rang and I saw a name on the caller ID that I had not seen in years. It was my ex-mother-in-law. I instantly thought something must have happened to Dad and was quickly preparing myself for the worst. Even though it has been thirty years, this year in fact, and the occasional phone calls ended long ago. We still stayed in touch via Facebook, and I always felt loved and knew they were proud of their grandchildren. So the sudden thought that one of them was gone was heartbreaking.

I said hello, and there was that oh-so-familiar voice saying, “Laurie, it’s Mom; Dad needs to talk to you.” I was suddenly wondering what on earth might be wrong, and then I heard Dad, and with his voice nearly breaking, he simply said, “Eddie (their son, my ex-husband) died last night.”

If I had not had the phone resting on the arm of the sofa and on speaker, I would have dropped it. I was instantly in shock, and I was overwhelmed with so many emotions. He would share with me that Eddie had recently reached out to his brother and even more recently had been quite ill and in the hospital, and that is where he died. He didn’t have a lot of information at the time, so our call was short. When I hung up, I fell into myself and wept. The sort of loud aching cries you see on a sad and dramatic movie. I was consumed with the tears and flooded with memories of a lifetime ago.

I reached out to a few friends, women on my “Prayer Warrior” list, and asked them to pray with me, for me, and of course, the rest of the family. Then I waited for my daughter to get home so I could tell her. I also called my other daughter and shared the news with her and sent a text to my son, who was working, letting him know I wanted to talk to him when he got home. Their reactions were their own, realizing that this is someone who was once labeled “dad” or “father,” that this man played the role for so little of their lives, and that his absence had been acknowledged years ago and that part of their lives quite simply left in the past.

I, on the other hand, kept drifting back into the vast valleys of nothingness; that is, until I would get back to the very beginning, to a mountain range and a river and a love I thought would never end. We met in Wyoming, surrounded by the beautiful Teton Mountains, and often walked along the edges of the great Snake River. It was so beautiful there, and our lives were just as beautiful. Our two oldest children were born there in Jackson Hole, and we had friends and such a good little life. He was a carpenter and built houses, but when you have more months of snow and winter-type weather than not, it is hard to maintain that sort of livelihood.

So we moved to Georgia, to be near his family and continue our life. And this is where our love story would take a not-so-lovely turn. He was an addict, sober when I met him and those first few months in Georgia. If you know anything about addicts or alcoholics, it is often talked about: old playgrounds and old playmates. With our move, my loving husband would step into both.

I won’t take you through it all; it’s much too long and doesn’t all need to be told, but it all was turned upside down so quickly, and while looking back, I could see the start of it much sooner than the woman I was then. And while it might be interesting to play the “what if” of the whole situation, I won’t do that either. It simply was, until it wasn’t, and when it wasn’t, it was bad.

We went from a life where even after working an 8-10 hour day, my husband would come home and take over with the kids. He would change diapers and help get them off to bed; he really was a wonderful daddy in those short first years and just as wonderful of a husband. We would often spend an evening after the kids were asleep dancing in the living room listening to Garth, Tim, and Faith. The early 90s provided for some pretty great country music. We loved and enjoyed it all. In fact, it was two of Garth’s songs that provided me grounding and solace as the years would grow longer and his absence just as long. The River, as well as The Dance. It was through these two songs, somehow “living” them to a sense, that I made it through the darkest of days.

But then that fall, some thirty-odd years ago, it ended just as quickly as it began. We had met in Oct 1992 and married the following Oct, a year to the day. And it would be after a little over a year of living in Georgia that the fall would be the setting for the end of our story. Life was crashing around us; we were evicted from our home and moved in temporarily with his parents, who I am sure only took us in because of the kids. They were 3 years old, 2 years old, and 4 months old, and I will be forever grateful that they gave me the stepping stone I would need to move forward into a dark and lonely unknown.

And I would move forward because after a month of living with his parents while their home was staged for sale, I finally had to make a choice, and I chose my children. His parents were gone most of the weekends we were staying with them at the end, as they were house hunting in Florida and would be moving. That was another thing that weighed heavy on my decision. I would not have anyone to help bail us out if something like this happened again. Yes, his brother and family were there, but it was hard enough asking his parent for help. I couldn’t imagine needing to turn to them in such a manner.

Once I decided I would be going home to Nebraska, his parents asked me to have him leave. So I did; I packed up all his clothes and put them in a backpack, and when he came home on that particular night, I told him I was leaving with the kids and gave him his things. He wanted to see the kids; I wouldn’t let him. I didn’t want to confuse them, plus they were excited about going on an airplane to see their other grandparents.

He hugged me that night, long and tight… I did not hug him back; I was terrified that if I did, I would never let go. So I didn’t, and when he finally released me, he turned around and walked off into the darkness defeated and broken. I went inside and fell to the floor, my back against the door, and I cried until there were no more tears. Then I went to bed, so I could get my kids ready for our big adventure in the morning.

It would be another year before I would file for divorce, hoping that our leaving would be his “bottom” and he would follow us to Nebraska. He never did and thus began my journey as a single mom. I would struggle with my own demons and addictions, alcoholism rearing its ugly head, yet it would be another decade before I would tackle that part of my so-called life.

So here I am three decades later, over two decades sober, and stronger than I ever could have imagined. I have done a lot of additional reflection in these past couple of weeks, pondering on just where my path has taken me. Oddly enough, I wouldn’t change much. Because it is that unpredictable, difficult, often scary road I was guided down, that road got me to my here and now, to the wonderful place I am today. If even one small thing had changed or altered my path, well, I think I would have missed out on some pretty wonderful relationships, including the addition of my youngest daughter. As well as a few lifelong friends, even though we are now separated by part or most of the state.

It is during this reflection and some well-timed events at work when I have been challenged to do some deep thinking, to survey all that has transpired behind me, and to think about what the future might hold. Thinking a lot about life and legacy and just what I want to be remembered for. What I want to leave for the ones I leave behind.

I have been fortunate to work for the same company for going on eight years this December. This in itself is crazy, because I have never been at any one job for this long, ever. It is an incredible company, and it is the ethics and culture that have also allowed me to deepen my own values, and in addition, adding ones, such as “assume positive intent,” bleed from the workplace into my life.

Don’t get me wrong, even with all I have been through, I usually have tried to see the best in people, to my own detriment at times, but over these past few years, while engrossed in such a positive work culture and being involved in a recovery program, I was able to put some of those processes to work in my day-to-day work and home life. The whole idea of adages like “All I need to know I learned in kindergarten” or “Treat others the way you want to be treated,” as well as “Do the next right thing.” Putting these phrases into action, walking the walk, not just talking… So many of these have become a part of my core being.

So as I contemplate this loss and its true finality, the tears were brief, because I did the hardest part of the work five years ago, and for that I am so grateful. I am also so thankful for a bit of news that also helped me to remember the man I once loved over the one who let me leave. As you will recall, I doted on what a wonderful father and husband this man had been. And he was; he would bring me flowers “just because,” leave the bar and come home to me and the babies, and not give a damn about what his friends thought. He is the man who loved and then adopted my oldest child; to him, she was always his. He was a good man, with a loving heart, who lost everything I hope he held dear to his disease.

On one of the calls with my in-laws, Dad shared that back in January, Eddie had made it known he was to be an organ donor. The fact that he could be gives me hope he found some sort of sobriety in the end. That knowledge makes me smile. So even with failing lungs, that would lead to his death; he was able to donate, and he ultimately saved three lives. It is that gesture, that final act of goodness, that makes his loss not as heavy and those early memories a little fonder and easier to hold on to.

I hope he found peace in the end; he deserves that, we all do. It would be so easy to think, “Good riddance.” What did he do for me anyways? I will tell you what he did: he was the first and only man who loved me completely and without hesitation, even though I was broken and scarred. He didn’t care; he simply loved. He helped me heal, and then, without knowing it, his actions would help give me the strength to do the unthinkable and raise my family, our family, on my own.

Do I wish life would have been easier? Yes, one hundred times, yes! But there is another phrase that I am quite fond of: “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.” I used to think, and even say out loud to Him, “Why do you think I am strong enough for this?” It would be years later from the first time I heard it to hearing an additional piece of wisdom that one needs to consider with that phrase. He gives you the things, situations He knows you need to turn to Him or someone else for help; none of it was meant to be tackled alone. Man, I wish I would have learned that part sooner; independence and pride kept me struggling for so long. Living in the insanity of doing the same thing over and over again… with nothing ever changing.

Today I have learned to ask for help when I need it, and surprisingly I need it less. I still try and put family first, especially with all my new grandchildren. I would do anything I could for any and all of them. And that is where my legacy or what I want it to look like comes in. I want them to know, just like their parents did, that Nana will always be there unless she absolutely can’t. That I will cheer the loudest, even if it might embarrass you as you get older. I am oh so proud of everything you do. That I will always write “Love you bunches, Nana” in each and every book. Because I do.

I often use the following hashtags when I post photos of my family, especially the grands, and I think that is how I will end this post: #NanaLife #iamblessed #familyiseverything (because I am and it is)

Silent Abyss

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.” – Anne Lamott

Hello again. Here I am finally plugging back in to one of the things I find most important–sharing my voice, filling the silence. Long time no… anything. If you came here to hear from me recently and not so recently, you would perhaps have had the already present words echoing around the once again created void.

Many months ago, I found myself harboring a resentment. Dwelling on what I thought should have happened and then mulling over all that was occurring–or should I say, had occurred. I put my trust with someone and at a time when I was still dealing with so much grief and struggle; I was placed in a place that I did not want to be in. Hurting, but being put on the spot by someone who was supposed to be one of my “safe places.” Angrily being told I was picking all the wrong things to do and work on. That my working on myself, learning how to deal with my grief (which they had encouraged), was overshadowing the things they felt were more important for me to be considering. That I was choosing one place or situation or group of people over another and that it needed to be changed. This person looked at me and asked, “How much Grief Share do you need anyways?”

I was at a loss for words, I just stood there, not knowing how to respond and trying not to cry. I managed to get some sort of words out, that allowed the conversation to end and walked away. I was in shock, dumbfounded, how could this person be so harsh, so ugly with their words? I simply didn’t know, and I also didn’t know what to do about the situation. Now, this person did send an apologetic text, expressing that they were sorry for their behavior and hoped that I could forgive them. I said I did, because I wanted to, but it ended up creating a harder path to travel with this person. A path I would try to stay on until I simply could not any longer.

For me, the text was never enough, it could have been generated by AI for all I knew and what I wanted was to hear this person voice the apology, to see the truth of it in their face… but that is something that never happened. We ventured to some of the same places, and this person would reach out to me and offer me a ride, (what was I supposed to say, NO, I don’t want to ride with you. That would have been rude, I couldn’t be rude.) Many times I was tired and someone else driving was an appreciated gesture. We would be in the car together, and more times than not, they would act like nothing, had ever happened between us. This relational exchange was so frustrating, but I couldn’t find the words to say so, so I just kept wading in the sludge of our relationship.

This went on for a while, too long, mostly because I simply didn’t know how to end things, or even if that was indeed what I was supposed to do. So, I mustered the energy to keep trudging, even as the situation thickened around me. I continued wading in the sludge that was our toxic relationship. I did this daily, to my own detriment, until I simply couldn’t any longer.

The group of friends we shared often did things together, I was missing my other friends, but the idea of having to share space with this one person was often overwhelming and finally I knew that I had to make a hard choice if I were to keep my peace of mind, my sanity. So, I found a way to say all that I needed to say, back to the beginning incident. I shared that I did forgive them, but there was still so much ache, so much anguish from that previous moment, that I could simply not continue to have a relationship with them. The trust between us was no longer present, it had been dissolved by their actions and their words that day.

Feeling the freedom of that not-so-small action was short-lived, because I had to be intentional about where I went and what I did, choosing my steps wisely. But these choices, and frankly, lack of steps began a journey into a quiet abyss. And there I stayed, not doing much of anything unless it was with my family or church related. Top that with the fact I work from home, I became the Queen of Isolation, and in the beginning, it felt like sanctuary.

That sanctuary was short-lived. I saw the signs; I saw what I was doing–or better said, not doing–and did nothing to change. It wasn’t until my TV broke and while waiting for a part to try and fix it to arrive, I would watch the smaller TV in my bedroom, which is also my office. So, I went from isolating in my apartment, to isolating in my bedroom for hours on end. I suddenly realized how small my world was becoming. Self-created. I needed to make the effort for something to change. I had to make a change, or I might keep sliding further into the abyss. Telling myself the lies of old– there’s next to no one I can trust outside of family and I am better off alone; I can count on me… count on me to go crazy!

So, I am trying, trying to venture back out into the world again. A world that is larger than church or one of my children’s homes. It’s been interesting and I am probably still not getting out as much as I should, but I am trying. I have started going to a new/old fellowship group at church on a night I have open and its part of starting. Starting to do things differently, because I do know all too well, that doing the same thing over and over, is indeed only clinging to insanity. It’s time to let go.

It’s time to let go and let God, how many times have I heard that, said it myself, but still did nothing different. So here I am letting go of the chains that hold me down in this abyss and reaching out to the hands that are reaching out to me–most importantly to His hand, reaching down to lift me out and back into the vibrant colors of fall. I have a grin suddenly coming across my face, as the fall, this awkward month of October, used to be the anchor of another abyss. The abyss that led me to Greif Share and learning how to let go of the hurt and pain and instead hang onto the moments that lighten our hearts and lift us up out of the abyss.

Speaking Up and Sharing Hope

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

I am sitting here in quiet awe, as I have been given the confirmation that I am a published author! One of my biggest dreams has finally come to fruition.

Recently, I have been busy writing my chapter, my contribution to a collaborative book that is now ready to be read by one and all! It almost doesn’t seem real; someone might need to pinch me…

The book we wrote may have started out as a writing project, yet somewhere along the way, it became a journey. Our journey asked us to look inward, dig deep, be honest, and most importantly, be vulnerable. Looking within and trusting that our words were worthy to be shared as well as heard. That our words may find their way to the person who needed them the most. That our words could help ease the pain and bring comfort to a struggling soul.

Along the way, as I shared the deepest of my scars, the foundation of misery that once was my life, I found something unexpected and wonderful. I found someone just as endeared to this process, just as willing to share their own brokenness on a more intimate level with me. We shared/edited each other’s work as we walked through this experience for the first time. Holding close to the fragile and weighted part of the process. We became one another’s cheerleader, pre-editor, and ultimately new and dear friend. We became a physical manifestation of the hope we were writing about. I am so grateful for the new and lifelong friendship I have with this woman.

For the both of us, this collaboration was more than putting our story on the page; it was revisiting those dark and difficult moments that brought us to where we are. The make-or-break moments, that at the time, were mostly difficult and broken, but are some of the core pieces of what brought us here today. Understanding that we no longer needed to ignore or avoid, because the hope that did finally get us through was now what would connect us in a way neither of us could have imagined.

So this book became much more than a collection of chapters of these women’s stories; it became a testament to what can happen when we choose honesty, healing, and, of course, hope. It is the sweet and gentle reminder of hope found, the hope we may have barely clung to at the time. Now, the hope that places us on a path that continues to reveal the most wonderful things. For me, it’s a dream come true, an unexpected friendship, and the privilege to share what hope and God have done for me.

Within the pages, we each share a journey—one that stretched us to the breaking point and healed us when it didn’t seem possible, asking us to be braver than we ever believed we could be. And the most beautiful part is we didn’t have to do it alone. I can’t wait to see how God uses our Hope Stories to heal the broken hearts and souls that pick up the pages and read them.

Please check out all of our stories, stories of overcoming the sometimes impossible through hope and healing. Amazon link: https://a.co/d/033ZkhHF

Quiet Hovel & Swiss Cheese

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

Ok, so I tend to stay stuck in the silence much longer than I need to. And its not the good kind of silence, instead its the overbearing, weigh me down, allow me to begin to feel a little sorry for myself sort of silence. As I sit in the self created little hovel, wailing alone. I am reminded that I know better. Yet, I get up in the morning, knowing I should do more (wanting to do more). Like jumping on the yoga mat, a treadmill, anything that would be “good for me” and my health. But, that would take getting up sooner than 30 mins before my work days starts and barely doing that sometimes. It’s simply been easier to not go to bed at night, staying up to watch another episode of a show that I have most likely watched a dozen times already… or starting a new show, and even though its only “so-so”, feeling vested after a season, that I just have to finish it.

Which brings me to the more honest realization that it is truly too easy to just sit there and not go to bed, too easy to allow the silence once again, to surround me; allowing that silence to grow louder every day. And as a recovering alcoholic, this practice is indeed a dangerous game. Because I know better, I know better for the 101 thousand reasons, and even though I have no desire to drink; I have a lot of really bad habits that come spiraling into view when I get to the place I am recently, the warm little hovel that has been my intermittent home these past few months.

I am thrilled to share, err admit; that this is merely self-discovery, once again… I can pinpoint the when, where, and who of it all. It used to make me so angry, that I allowed then myself to stay stuck in a moment that wasn’t going change; that was what it was and trying to think about having a different outcome, expecting different results, is merely the insanity that I know all to well.

Its all to easy for me to blame the other people, places or things… when I start to feel squirrelly. But, if I am really listening to the spinning wheel in my head, because the squirrels are running at 101mph; I know better.

I know, that I am the one to allow the situation to be what it is, in allowing my magic magnifying mind to manufacture all sorts of situations; including being angry or frustrated, sad, or overwhelmed. All the things, all the feels, is all about me, and I have to remember to own that.

I am so thankful that just a few days ago a dear friend reached out to me and asked me to help her be accountable. Because when it boiled down to it, I needed that too and I told her so. I am happy to be there for you, because, sadly I need the same. I had completely let go, and not in a good way; I had completely let go of what, that part of my life offered… the fellowship that was created, the serenity that was created, and it had become to easy to just say “screw it”.

So because of that conversation, I took off the mask that I had put back on after years of not wearing any mask at all… wearing that mask made it easier to live in the masquerade I was trying to emulate, so that no one would guess that there was still something wrong. Because Laurie was still doing what Laurie needed to do. And for the most part I was, I worked, paid my bills, and got through a given day. But… I stopped doing the other things, the other things necessary things for me, as an alcoholic to keep me healthy and whole.

I love swiss cheese. And that is basically what I created in my life, was a block of swiss cheese. I kept falling into the different “holes” of nothingness; the voids of silence that those spaces, or lack of space create. I just wallowed in those voids. It took getting a really good nights sleep, which I haven’t had in weeks; to wake up feeling good, but even more so, thankful; so very thankful for my life and my health and for what I know I can have, it I simply just use the tools of the program.

I have often used the expression, when discussing the “spiritual toolbox” of putting my toolbox in the back of the closet, thinking I didn’t need it any longer. And once again, I have been proven wrong; because once again, with just a little prodding… I dragged it out and opened it up once again. Those tools can be profound and cumbersome; but oh so necessary for my sanity, and those around me.

So the first of those tools, I pulled out and brushed off the bit of dust that had started to gather was to talk/text another person in this program daily; getting out of self. Then, with the encouragement of my dear friend, to share the gratitude I have in my life. Next, it was time to leave the hovel for more than family or church, and plug back into the fellowship that the program has so often encouraged me.

So I took the proverbial leap and even looked for a new meeting to go to. I found one close to home and got into my car and was on my way. I was a little nervous when I got there, I always am when going to a new meeting, first time encounters not my strong suit. But as I entered the room, I saw a familiar face and I knew it would be OK. There was some fun football banter before the meeting started and it was good to laugh and be apart of the sort of togetherness a meeting can bring.

Within moments, I was reminded of what I had been denying myself; something I enjoy. More importantly, something that allows me to thrive in the silence that sometimes fills my mind. God certainly works in unusual ways, but once again, He allowed me to be exactly where I needed to be; where He needed me to be. The topic was just what I needed to hear, and even allowed me to share where I was in my recovery, allowing me to share my truth.

I even stayed after the meeting and spoke with that familiar face and another woman, something I rarely do at any “new” situation. It was wonderful, to continue to share, to feel a part of the fellowship again, even in a brand new setting. For the first time in quite some time, I feel energized, alive in a way I have not felt in so long, as I continue to battle the not always seen demons in my life.

I am so grateful to be able to knock down the hovel and keep the swiss for my crackers at snack time… to put away the mask and remember the woman I see in the mirror each day, is pretty OK. To remember that self-care is important and to allow myself to revel in the place I find myself once again… the comfort and serenity of the fellowship that has saved me more than once in my life. I am looking forward to creating new relationships, new friendships with the like-minded people that like it or not, are my tribe.

Unexpected Gifts, from Unexpected Places

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

I am sitting here in my oldest daughter’s house, enjoying the peace and quiet, that is until Peyton, their dog starts bellowing at something outside and my heart jumps inside my chest! It’s been a nice evening, as I spend some time with him before heading home for the night. The kids are out of town for the weekend and I will actually enjoy a little “staycation” here tomorrow night thru Sunday and keep Peyton company and out of trouble. It will be nice, I can watch the football games I would miss at home and just enjoy the “feel” of being away from home as Open Enrollment has started this week, and it will really start to get crazy as the days go by in the weeks to come. I love my job, but for the next two months, I will be thankful for extra coffee and lots of OT!

Speaking of being thankful, I am still so filled with gratitude and have been really left without words. Roughly five or six weeks ago, my van decided to finally give me the last it had to offer and left me stranded on the interstate on a Saturday afternoon when it was 98 degrees out! Thankfully I have roadside assistance and they were quicker than the 50 minute estimate given in my app and after dropping off another car, took me home. I had visited with my mom while waiting for the driver, all just to kill the time, so what happened later that week was truly wonderful and such a blessing. We text pretty regularly now, but on Thursday, she asked me to call her. I did so after work and that was when she told me she wanted to gift me her extra car. I was stunned and did nearly start to cry. So much brokenness and pain that had been between the two of us for so many years, and now through our simple gestures of morning hellos or afternoon I love you, we our rebuilding something that perhaps we never really had before and it is through that reconstruction of our tattered relationship that we are finding something new.

It would be a couple weeks before I could make the 2 1/2 – 3 hour trip to be able to pick up the car, as there were family engagements on this side of the state, but it would be worth the wait to have something to drive again that I could travel more than 1-2 miles from my apartment. So this past weekend, Saturday morning, my son and I hit the road and made the trip to see my mom, his grand mother, that he hadn’t seen in years. It was a fun drive, laughing together and listening to music, and we almost made the entire trip without a stop – but mom has a weak bladder and drank too much water 😛

Once we got to my mom’s she gave us both hugs and we sat and had lunch together. It was nice to visit and it was nice to hear her talk about some of the things she is doing now; that she is getting out of the house for church and lunch with friends. I hate the idea of her being by herself most of the time, because I am too, I know what it feels like, what an empty room sounds like, how the absence of sound can affect you. Its only been five months since my step dad has been gone, and I know that it leaves an odd empty place for me, I can’t imagine what she must still feel, after spending over 40 years of her life with him. I was able to bring her a really lovely garden stone with a cardinal on it to have in her garden, as that is one thing I am so very glad she still enjoys doing, and it will continue to keep her busy each and every summer. She seemed to really like it and said she would wait until next year to put it out, and again committed how much she liked the cardinal.

We were there for about an hour or so, but with the long drive we did need to head back and so we said our goodbyes, I thanked my mom again for her generous gift and that I appreciated it more than I could express. She simply said, she had prayed about it and that was what God wanted her to do. That too made smile, made my heart happy. Because isn’t that all any of us want to do? The next right thing, which we would hope is what God, or Jesus, or Whoever you may call your own High Power would want you to do? As I drove home, I was filled with a sense of connection once loss, but now tethered once again, and the young girl lost and unseen, was always there; she just needed to step out of the darkness to be seen and heard. Even if it is only to whisper into the night, I’m still here and I love you.

As the Silence Fades

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

As I sit here listening to the gentle humming of my cat’s purring I am reminded that my world has become less silent in recent weeks. Yet, is it the awakening world around me? Or my own awaking that brings such sweet sounds to my once hushed existence? Being lost in the shroud of depression – having crawled deep inside myself. Deep into the self dug pit and desperately pursuing a livelihood of attempting to conceal myself from anyone not necessary to my immediate world. Barely surfacing for air and eating even less, I was barley surviving and doing my best to simply camouflage myself amongst my day by day world; merely getting by.

But as we all know, my “getting by” was getting me nowhere and I am so grateful for that fact. I am also always and forever grateful for the mysterious way that God works in our lives, how He has worked in mine. From bringing me to Omaha almost 9 years ago, to all that I have been through in the last 2 years. My plan vs. God’s plan were once again quite different, and even with some of the recent struggles… I would ask for them again, because they are truly what strengthens us. We are reminded to “Be thankful for all of our storms, because without them, we would never know how truly strong we are.” This is indeed so very true, and I thank God each day for how strong I am, and for being with me, through each and every storm. I don’t know about you, I keep childishly wanting that straight line to the finish, and He simply knows that’s not the path… But, when I continue to trust, and to truly step out in faith, HE is there and the fruit of my efforts are more than seeds in my hands.

Seeds that are blossoming into beautiful plants that I no longer destroy. (I used to have a black thumb, but I am happy to announce I have 6 beautiful healthy plants in my home) Today there is a beautiful plant beginning to blossom where there was once was so much brokenness and a silence that was deafening.

It brings a smile to my face when I receive a morning text from my mom and we can talk about simple things each day, like Husker VB or college softball, two of the things she enjoys watching. She sent me pictures of her flower garden, each photo, each text helping to chip away at the long held silence… helping us find our way back to each other. We would talk about going for walks, and as we got comfortable texting, we could start talking too. Hearing her voice, knowing how long it has been; decades of brokenness and never the right time or way to say or speak… so it simply kept being unspoken. Until our recent tragedy reminded me that it’s never too late, and as my brother so simply stated a few months ago, “it doesn’t matter anymore.”

And he was right, I/we could hang on to all that was, or wasn’t and get caught up in the woulda/coulda, or we can simply move forward and enjoy the time we have and share the moments we are given and choose love. That’s what I choose to do moving forward, to love and to try to be a good daughter; because when I needed her most, when I needed her to protect and take care of me, she did 110%.

Then there is the beautiful blossoming that is occurring with my writing, after being quiet again, but continuing to feel that familiar pull; to hear the quiet whisper within myself, “It’s time to tell your story.” Meeting women who share my experience, my pain. Finding true healing after all these years. Finding healing again, after all the loss these past two years. Having that healing and loss lead me back to my journal, with this need to actively pour the words out of me. Often flowing like a ballad or lullaby – soothing, healing as they left my heart and soul and found their way to the paper; waiting to be fully shared with all the other broken but healing souls who they reach.

So it was with intention I took the steps that allowed myself to be vulnerable. Questions were asked and answered, and I said YES! Today I can reveal I am writing with purpose and I have a collaboration that I will be a part of and I will be reaping the rewards of trusting in Him and walking by faith and allowing songs of hope to be sung in the silence.

Strong and Silent

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

Nearly three weeks ago, I received an early morning text from my younger brother. Which is a bit out of the ordinary, because we don’t talk a bunch. He said he wanted me to know he had been up early reading, my sister-in-law had directed him here, to my blog and he had read it all. He told me “the good Lord made you a talented writer and you need to tell your story” He also told me he loved me, but those words, the latter of his sentence, brought tears to my eyes. They were words that I thought, wouldn’t have believed he would ever say. I simply could have NEVER have imagined him saying, and I was indeed overwhelmed.

You see, I love my little brother, who is not so little any more, very much. We were very close growing up and he was always much more of an “older” brother in the way he acted, he was very protective and when we were both in trouble, he always had my back. We drifted apart when our parents divorced the summer I turned 14. I stayed with mom and he lived with dad, but I’m getting ahead of myself… let’s get back to why my hearing my brother telling me I should share my story moved me to tears.

Well, because my story, my TRUTH, which is also our story, is a hard story to tell, an even harder pill to swallow. Which I suppose is why I have continued to sit in the silence and this unbearable holding pattern, waiting for something, SOMEONE to give me the signal to move on; to move forward, outside the dark and quiet void. So for years I have waited in the void, rehashing old demons, creating and battling new ones; shedding armor only to put on more. All the while, quietly waiting to tell my story, to be given the opportunity to speak my truth.

The summer I was 12, was the summer my story began; or at least my most vivid memories. There was a day, that there had been an incident, and I was on the stairs crying. My brother came in and found me, he was 10 and being a pest and wouldn’t let up until I told him why I had been crying. He didn’t believe nothing and whatever else I must have told him, so I told him the truth… he freaked out, called me a liar and ran to his room. He took a nap and he forgot it all, because he never sad a word. So I decided right then and there to never say another word, if my own brother didn’t believe me, why would anyone?

So that Monday morning, in one quiet gesture, in a loving text, my brother gave me the nod to move forward – forward in the final phase of healing from the trauma I endured so many decades ago. Its like I have finally been given the permission to get up of the stairs in that old farmhouse where it all started. As if I have been sitting there ALL these years and now I am finally FREE! No more softly weeping, unable to move, afraid to do so; because if I did; the walls would come tumbling down around me.

Today, I am good, truly, my wounds are healed. I’ve been thru therapy, twice; and after 20 years of self medicating with alcohol and drugs, and basically marrying my father three different times; I found recovery, including out-patient treatment and started seeing myself differently and moving forward there were much fewer self inflicted wounds. Its been another 20 plus years, living life sober and today I know make better choices and I am living a life I am much prouder of. I still have struggles, that comes with life. But today, I know much better ways to deal with them.

As previous posts have revealed, the last two years proved especially difficult as I experienced more loss and grief than I could have imagined, and I did get caught up in the void, the isolation of that staircase, sitting there, alone and crying and just lost in the sadness. I used to pray on that staircase, and to my naïve and traumatized young self, I simply thought that God either didn’t hear me, or worse… didn’t care. Today, I know better, with FAITH, even in my sadness and sitting on those stairs again, I prayed, asking God to help me through.

So while there can be strength in silence, I am here to say, I have been silent for far too long. And if my not so “little” strong and silent brother can give this tortured writer the gentle and encouraging nod that I have been waiting for… if as I standup and start to walk away, I can hear the quiet rumble and feel the trembling around me, as the walls do come crumbling down. When the dust settles, I turn to see that the stairs are all that remains. Someone still sits there and I take a step back, raise my hand to shield my eyes and I see that it is 12yo me. She lifts her hand to wave and she smiles, and then she walks away, a skip in her step, nothing to fear.

I turn to do the same, maybe not skip (my 58 yo back and knees would not agree) but walk, away from the wreckage of my past, trudging along on a beautiful new path, that is filled with it’s own uncertainties, but today I am more than strong enough to do what needs to be done, including shatter the silence and stand strong.

How We Can Heal in the Silence

/ Laurie / Leave a comment

Hello again, I could start by apologizing for my lengthy absence, and its not that I am not sorry, because I am. I wanted to write and I did do some private journaling, its just that the darkness and loss continued to be so overwhelming; that sharing my voice simply wasn’t possible until now. And then I was finally navigating the numerous losses from December 2023 to May 2024, once again God took home two more angels, and my heart fell back into the ache that far too many people know and understand. That familiar darkness washed over me, inviting me in again, and I obliged.

What happened next was the unexpected fellowship I found amongst 12 veritable strangers. We met in a room at the church, each Wednesday night, for 3 months, 13 weeks if we’re counting specifically. And I do want to count each and every week, because it was on those Wednesday evenings, even on the nights when I couldn’t go… (my final loss came shortly after the Greif Share class began, when my Stepfather passed) that I found a new sort of solace that I had not yet found. Even with therapy and time that had passed preceding walking into that room on the first night.

Amongst The group was the husband and daughter of my dear friend who we all lost over a year ago, it was so wonderful, to share in such an intimate way with them; to be able to let my friend’s daughter know how much her mom loved being a grandmother. We both were new to having grandchildren and loved sharing our newest photos with one another. The couple who just recently lost their son, I only knew their faces because they set in front of me during our church service. The beautiful words he wrote at the end of his life and they so graciously shared with us. The love and grace and heart that was poured into this young man, by them and God, was such a comfort for us all. The two strong widows, women my own mom’s age, newly placed in this “new” role… it was with their quiet grace and the sharing of all the “firsts” that I was able to know where my own mother might be, since I don’t live close. It has been through the unfortunate loss of my stepdad, that my mom and I are closer that we have been in years, maybe even ever. I try to text her daily and call her once a week to talk to her, and that is a big change to where we used to be. A healing for us, as we heal from losing him.

There are the others in the group, and as a whole, every week, there was always something big that was experienced by one of us; some turning point, letting go, moving forward, that we could share and be vulnerable with one another and share where we were in the moment. But it was the ones I mentioned above, that I will forever feel connected to, thankful for and they helped through this part of my healing journey. I am forever grateful for the prayer warriors I know every single one of them are, as I continue to pray for them all, now that are sessions are complete. God created something special with our group, and I will forever hold them all in my heart.

Healing is indeed a process and we must go to Him, in all our uncertainty, all our failures, with all our short-comings and ask for His assistance, His forgiveness. Yet, if you are anything like me and you get caught up in the defects and short-comings; our sins, you may not feel worthy of forgiveness. And if we feel that way, we need to stop, immediately! Because that is the enemy telling his lies and we need to not listen and better yet, we need to tell him to shut up!!

But I get it, I used to live there, in that Valley of Unworthiness; the land of This is My Fault. So I just set there in silence, dealing with my consequences, instead of trying to learn a better way. Instead of asking, “God please help me” I had prayed so many times as a young girl, and He didn’t respond, so I finally gave up. If He didn’t help me then??? Why would He help me now? That’s when I began to learn a lot more about His will and timing.

This morning I read the following two statements about God’s love for us:

“Looking through the eyes of love, He already see us as we will be when His work is done.”

“The removal of our defects/sins (leaving holiness) is God’s will for each of us”

When we learn to understand this, believe this, we can be certain He will guide us, assist us, heal us, in His time, if we are asking and looking to Him for His direction.

What I learned in this extended silence, is that it isn’t empty… it’s full of answers.

Listen for yours, in your own quiet space.