How long will you be loved...

 Almost one week ago, the only child I have ever loved as my own drew her very last breath. She was surrounded on this plane by her loving parents, in heaven by legions of those who watched her from afar and reached out to lift that veil so she would be brought into the fullness of life in God's time. It was likely one of the most brutally beautiful moments for her parents and family. She is, and yes, I speak of her in the present tense because since she has passed, her spirit has enveloped our family, seemingly random rainbows, beautiful cardinals, and storms that part, just over our home. In the waves of grief, I have seen her momma, one of my dearest friends, be the epitome of motherly love. She has shown grace, grit, pain, and above all else, a steadfast belief that her girl, the one she graciously shared with each of us, is exactly where God called her. Even in the pain, she knows this. When I think about the kind of mother, I wanna be, that is it. She shows me daily that mothering is holding on and letting go. Over the past few months, I have wanted to take some of this pain, to share that burden. I couldn't, and even if I could, she wouldn't wish that on anyone. I know she is taking care of herself the best she can. I'm thankful that soon, I will get to give her the deep soul holding, love-filled hug that I have probably needed more than she has. And I know, when things have settled, she will still be missing a part of her that continues on, simply in another realm, and she will someday see her again. I hope she knows I will never forget her sweet Lu. Never. We will speak her name. We will celebrate the years and miles she traveled here. Cause every beginning is some other beginning's end...until I see you, Lulu, say hello to the boys and give them a hug for me. I'll give your mom a hug from you. 

Holidays and Home Goings

 I am currently preparing to go "home" to be some sort of support for my dearest sister-friend as she prepares to lay to rest her much-beloved daughter at the end of this week. I don't really know what the hell I'm doing. Anyone who knows me knows that I do not do funerals. I have never found them peaceful nor have they given me closure. I'm all about making amends, saying goodbye, and as my grandma put it giving my flowers before people pass. I did not attend my grandfather or my grandmother's funerals. I generally try to find some time alone and give my thanks for their life and their part in my life and that of my family. And then I let it go. That doesn't mean I don't get sad or miss them, I do, but I am able to put that in a box and let it out in ways that are appropriate for me. I would also be remiss if I didn't recognize and acknowledge that I just feel uncomfortable with much of my family of origin. I have lived away from most of them for most of my adult life. We (them and me) aren't close, by my choice, and so it would feel disingenuous for me to pretend to or feel comfortable grieving loss with them. Sometimes it is just like that. 

I have deeply felt this loss. The loss of a child who radiated joy and is probably one of the few people who genuinely lived life on her own terms. As a mother, I cannot ever imagine her mama's grief. She won't ever get over it. She will learn to live with her grief. She and her husband and daughter and son will learn to do life in this new space. My job, is to love her. To say her child's name. To stand in that liminal space as she closes out the physical plane of her daughter's life and be the wall if she needs something sturdy to lean on. And while some may ask why I would do this for my friend but not my family? Because the family I chose has consistently shown me what healthy relationships look like. They have taught me how to set and keep healthy boundaries. This particular friend has been a sister to a lost woman who needed help navigating the adult world, mothering, career, and has shown up. Love shows up. 

When I board that plane on Friday I will do so with a heavy but grateful heart. Grateful to have known such a radiant soul, grateful to continue to be included in her family, grateful to have a friend who is the essence of love. 

Transitions 2.0

 Our lives are all transitions. We move in and out of seasons of love, loss, education, rest, play, and blessed sleep. Sometimes in those transitions, the movements are heavy and hard. They feel like inches, but from a 10,000-foot view, those were huge miles of movement. Sometimes that movement goes by quicker than a Texas thunderstorm or the wind through the Joshua Trees in the California high desert. You learn from both. The agony moments don't have fast-forward options, and the joyous ones do not have pause buttons. You have to take it as it comes. You learn to know that whatever this is, it won't be forever. Even death that isn't forever in the world I inhabit. It is a temporary situation. 

Let me be clear, we are fine. No one is gravely sick or dying. These are just observations to help drive home the temporary nature of our world. 

Our family has begun the transition period that is common in clergy families. We don't have a lot to share at the moment. But we knew and knew this curacy period was temporary. We know that by next summer there will be a new adventure. We do not know where that will be yet. We do not know what the months leading up to and after will look like. We know that we move into liminal spaces yet again. We know that there is a plan; it just hasn't been revealed just yet to us. We have faith it will be the right place, for the right reason, at the right time. 

Like my Father

 There is a new song out by an artist named Jax. The name of the song is Like My Father. This song instantly resonated with me. Not because I saw this sort of relationship played out in my early life but because I am living this with the Curate and our kids are witnessing it. 

The Curate is a wonderful spouse (he can also be a gigantic pain in my butt). He is the kind of for better and definitely for worse. In health and even more in sickness. He lives his marriage covenant to the fullest extent one can. He shows the children and me what everyday love is. Everyday love is consistency. Everyday love involves the same phrases, gestures, and responsibilities being done over and over again. Some might question if everyday love is what one wants? For me, it is a resounding YES. Everyday love takes far more effort than intense beginning love. Everyday love takes persistence, compromise, willingness to keep showing up each and every day, even when you don't want to. Everyday love is realizing you are tired and feeling sad but knowing that your partner loves you and will love you through to the good part again and again. It means recognizing that you want to be a better partner and changing so both of you get the best of each other. 

Everyday love isn't all day love every day. It is knowing that love and commitment can go hand in hand and hopefully at the end of a life together, you had more everyday love than you had anything else. I've spent 13 years with my everyday love. We are different people now than we were then and that is a good thing. It hasn't always been easy, some days it seemed impossible. And while 13 years isn't a lifetime it is significant, especially when it has included almost as many moves, 5 kids, career changes (multiple), and learning how to grow and change with each other. 

As our kids grow up I hope they get to experience both intense beginning love and everyday love. They will need both if they choose to partner up. I hope they find someone to love like their father loves their mom.