Retreating

I have determined that this weekend I am going to retreat.










The dictionary defines the word retreat as:

1.

the forced or strategic withdrawal of an army or an armed
force before an enemy, or the withdrawing of a naval force from action.

2.

the act of withdrawing, as into safety or privacy; retirement; seclusion.

3.

a place of refuge, seclusion, or privacy:

The library was his retreat.

4.

an asylum, as for the insane.

5.

a retirement or a period of retirement for religious exercises and meditation.

Right now, I am withdrawing for a time from engaging in public interaction.
I am finding my place of retreat.
I am going to retire to my place of retreat, and I am going to engage in a different type of engagement.  

I need to spend time with my family.
I need to spend time with my Lord.
I need to *not* be concerned with engaging the "enemy".

So, if you need me, I'll be drinking a cup of tea in the blanket fort, coloring and singing with my children.  

Inspiration

This week I had the most amazing counseling session.

I really love my counselor.
It had been three weeks since I saw her, due to travel for my grandmother's memorial service, and holidays, and others' schedules.

I was dealing with a lot.
Grief.
Pain.
Frustration.
Anger.
Anxiety.
Life.

As I sat with her, this beautiful woman, and worked on my stuff, I was given a vision of a piece of art, something I MUST make come to life.  Today, 3 days later, it is as fresh as it was sitting in her chair.

The concept is one of allowing the Healer to do His work in me.
It is simple.
It is HARD.
It is a work in progress.

Can't wait to share it.

How does one grieve a relationship that never was?

I realized today (with the help of my therapist) that I AM grieving right now.

I am grieving the relationship I will not be able to have with my grandmother.  The relationship that was denied by years of my parents not allowing us to spend time with their parents.  The relationship impeded by distance, both geographically and emotionally.  The relationship clouded by the lies and misunderstandings of years of hurt on both sides, never explained to the children we were, or to the adults we became.

I am also grieving the relationship I have never had with my mother, and which became even more clear to me over the past month, will never happen.  I grieve the painful, incomplete, one-sided forgiveness for abuses heaped-on.  I grieve the human frailty that denies any chance at reconciliation.  I grieve the ravages of disease on a once-brilliant mind.  I grieve the loss of opportunity for my children to connect with this grandmother.

Yes, I am grieving.  I actually cried today for the first time since learning that Grandma had passed away...frankly, it was a relief to cry.

Two-week Recap

These last two weeks have been FULL.

BRIEFLY:

• Oct. 24, my last living grandparent died.  
• Oct. 31, I was up at 3:00 a.m. after 2 hours of sleep, flew to Charlotte, NC, where I was picked up by my in-laws.  I unloaded and repacked Frances' car, drove to Columbia, put 200 pounds more of her stuff into the car, went to the church's block party, drove back out to the house, unloaded and repacked some more, and finally collapsed into bed at about 9:00 p.m. 
• Nov. 1, I went to church with my inlaws, saw friends, and did final rearranging of the car.  
• Nov. 2, I packed up and drove to Black Mountain, NC, and went to Grandma's memorial, after which there was a reception at the church, and then a family gathering at my aunt's church across the mountain in Old Fort.  After that, I got to hang out with my aunts and uncles and some extended family for the evening.  
• Nov. 3, I met up with my friend Brenda, from middle school and high school years...and had dinner with Kathleen, a friend from Bible college days, and after dinner got back in the car and started driving...stopping for the night in northern Virginia.  
• Nov. 4, I finally arrived home around 4:00 pm.  

***************************

 Grandma Lucile Ratchford Hestir was an amazing woman.










Known as "Lucy", Grandma received degrees from the University of Texas and from Purdue University.  She worked as an aeronautical engineer, inspecting planes for release for combat duty in World War II.  She served as the Director of Personal Faith and Family Life for the Board of Women's Work of the Presbyterian Church U.S.  She finished her career acting as Volunteer Coordinator for the Texas State Department of Human Resources.

 She was mother to 4 children.
Grandmother to 7...I am the oldest.
Great-grandmother to 8.

She was a strong leader in a time when women were supposed to be homemakers.

She outlived her son Brent, and her husband, Bluford "Blue", as well as her twin sister, Louise.

The celebration of her life was on November 2, 2015, at Black Mountain Presbyterian Church.

**********************************

I was able to be at Grandma's memorial service, and to spend some time with the extended family, which was really good.  I was also able to catch up with some friends in the area, and then began the trip back to Massachusetts, driving my daughter's car, which was loaded down with many of her belongings.

I arrived back home on Wednesday afternoon, and welcomed a visit with a wonderful friend from Bible college days, Marcie Gustafson.  Marcie was able to stay with us for almost a week, during which time we were able to see the movie "Poverty, Inc.", and go see a very good rendition of the opera The Marriage of Figaro, put on by the Treble Chorus of New England's "Hands on Opera!"  We were also able to catch up on where Marcie is ministering these days (Durban, South Africa), and what God is doing there.  We were sad to see her go, but look forward to keeping in touch!

This week has been one of rest with spurts of craziness, including work for the two older girls, play practice and opening night for Justin, band practice and a football game for the marching band, a day off of work and school on Wednesday for Veteran's Day, and trying to catch up on laundry, email, and other errands.

Things I've missed

I grew up in a VERY conservative home and church community.  There were a LOT of things that were normal for my college friends that I had never experienced.

My parents never allowed me to date.

I had never been to a football game...high school, college, or professional.

Or a dance.

We didn't own a TV or go to the movies.  I saw ONE movie prior to college.

Because my parents limited my experiences, I missed out on a lot of things.

I missed out on all the highs and lows of high school dating.  The awkwardness.  The drama.  The excitement.  I don't think I really care NOW that I missed dating then...but then, it was a huge deal.

I missed out on Friday night movies, or football games, or baseball games, or much hanging out with friends.  We were able to hang out occasionally...Monday nights were set aside for church softball games and youth volleyball.  Sunday nights, after church, were a time for the youth to socialize at someone's home.

I missed out on much of the drama that is part and parcel of the high school experience.  I can't say that is something I regret missing.  I am a quiet, peacemaking person, and drama is NOT something I desire.

I missed out on learning to dance.  Even today, dancing is not something I am comfortable attempting to do.  Don't get me wrong...I WANT to dance.  I LOVE all of the dancing in the musicals...ballroom dancing, line dancing...I am fascinated and so very much wish I knew how to dance.  But, because I never learned how to dance, and was taught that movement was sinful, dancing is not something I have ever done much of.  I would learn in a minute, if I had the money for lessons, or someone were willing to spend the time to teach me.

The Labels I give myself

Often, as a parent, I have fought to keep my children from being limited by their labels.  We think if we can protect them from labels, they will see more of themselves, and be able to do more.

However, for myself, I find that sometimes labels are helpful.  After all, who would want a cabinet full of tin cans with no labels on them?  "Looks like 'surprise dinner' again tonight, kids!  Wonder what's in THIS can?"

I label myself, and often with labels that feel right to me, whether anyone else sees the legitimacy of the label.

I call myself a Believer, a Christian, a follower of Christ.

I call myself a mom.  I guess most people can see that.

I call myself a wife.

I call myself a NAVY wife.

I call myself a counselor.

I call myself by a number of names that at first glance may not seem to fit.

One of those it Third Culture Kid, though I have never lived outside of the contiguous United States.

Another is Orphan, though my parents are still living.

Additionally, I call myself Broken, Wounded, Healing, Healer, Warrior, Misfit, Outsider, Educated, a Reader.

I have fought most of these labels over the years...I have not wanted to label myself.  But like those cans in the cabinet, my labels help me on my path to healing, and help others as they support me on my journey.

What labels do you give yourself?  Are they helpful labels?

Weeping with those who weep...

There is so much pain around us.  Often we are able to see past it, to see the sunshine, and flowers, and to remember that everything is not always painful.


And then there are weeks like this one....
...with the senseless slaughter of college students,
...and the loss of military lives that hit closer to home than usual,
...and the ongoing slaughter of a beautiful people, and destruction of their homeland, because of ideological and religious disagreements,
...and friends with cancer,
...and children dying at the hands of cruel adults...

The list seems endless, at times.
These days, when the pain is so heavy, we are admonished to share in the pain, and help carry the load.

Soon enough, the sun WILL break through the clouds that are hanging lower than normal, that are spilling rain like the tears we all feel.  We WILL see the sun again.  For now, understand the rain, and help holding the umbrellas for those who are most affected, and are in the deepest of the pain.

"...rejoice with the rejoicing, and weep with the weeping."  Romans 12:15 YLT