Catherine Halliwell-Templin sent me a link . I’d heard about this gal Brene Brown. 😉
Ouch. Here she was – reading my mail. in a TEDx Talk. In front of Everyone.
Shame. Shame Shame. The constant whisperer, constant companion, wanna be side kick to the perfectly imperfect. And boy have I been imperfect. Wading through the mess to reach the other side. Stuck in the middle. (not stuck in the middle of the mess but in the middle of Many)
Just about feeling ok. Then the call. “Your dad has died.” Suddenly. A heart attack. He’d had health concerns and he was nearing 77 but really he was a walking talking Miracle. Many mini strokes then falling off a 2 story roof, onto concrete, head first, followed by an undiagnosed brain bleed, brain surgery, rehab. He went to Jesus two months after his own 100 year old mother . I believe God saved him for so long so that his Mother wouldn’t have to bury another child when she’d already buried two daughters. I believe God saved him so long so he could keep the many Promise’s to his mother. Which he did. (He too was stuck in the middle of Many)
Several hours before the call during a lovely little Sunday nap in that sweet spot of waking fully rested but not quite yet, I saw dear ole Dad dancing through the Great Pearly Gates with the Generations gone before lined up to his right – joyously greeting him. God is good that way. I knew it was ok & True- my dad has had knee and hip problems for many years. Once so active it was frustrating for him not to be able to keep up and frustrating for others that he wouldn’t use a scooter or wheelchair. (Note to Future Older self)
Just about feeling ok. Then the call. “Would you take over the sale of the Family Home in Monmouth?” No problem right? Yes. Way Problem. I hate that house. I’ve written in these pages about it. The last time happy laughter rang in that home, before darkness completely enveloped, my brother was almost 4-I was almost 9.
Years later, my dad following me out to the garage, whiskey in hand “I’m almost done with my dissertation. We’ll have lots of time now to do all those things.” I must have gaped. Standing there , with effort I shut my mouth. The almost Woman-Child swallowed and said incredulous, angry, sad and nearly bitter “Funny, I’ll be graduating soon. Too bad times up.”
The Child-almostWoman wanted to believe things would be different. After decades of broken Promises, broken dreams, broken vows…and broken lives… I knew it wouldn’t.
I kept packing. Planning for my first apartment. Just about feeling ok.
At almost 18 I was done. Finished. It didn’t matter where but I wouldn’t be in this home anymore. “Sure, Dad” I said, “I’ll visit.”
It would be another 15 years until real changes were forced on this Household. Another 10 or so until the Woman-Child really grasped that no one knew. It wasn’t because no one CARED. It was because no one had known….
Part 3…Perhaps it had nothing to do with us
Part 4…One Two Buckle My Shoe.
But who can discern their own errors? Forgive my hidden faults. (NIV)
(All rights reserved February 2014)