sadness on Christmas morning

It's Christmas morning, and I don't want to get out of bed.

Getting out of bed means Christmas is here, and my Bebe is not.

Last night at church, a hundred memories came flooding back into my mind as soon as they started playing the first song. Every memory was from last Christmas when Bebe stayed with our family here at the house. She alternated each year between our family and my Uncle Steve's family. How could we have ever known that last Christmas would be her last?

As I sat in church last night, my mind kept running through a few specific scenes. First, how Bebe was sitting next to me at church last year. She sat to my right. When they started playing "Silent Night" at the end, I lit her candle for her and she held my hand while we all sang. I nearly lost it last night during that part of the service. My next thought is Christmas morning, with Bebe in her robe (just like every other Christmas she ever spent with us), sipping on coffee while we all waited on my sister to roll out of bed. Last year, we gave Guitar Hero to my Dad. Bebe sat upstairs in the TV room with me and Emily later that afternoon and just laughed as tried to figure the game out. When my sister got booed off the stage the first couple of times she played, Bebe's response was "Honey, you're not a loser in the game of life." Oh, Bebe :) Bebe spent the day with us, and later that night we all went to Steve and Laura's house, something we do every Christmas. After all the gifts were opened, Bebe reached into her purse and pulled out those five small envelopes. We all knew what was coming, we got the same thing every year. Each grandchild got a twenty dollar bill. For a woman with not much, this gift was more than sacrificial.

Today is one month. One month since the world stopped turning for our family. On the whole, I've been relatively okay. I've had my moments, for sure. Today is different, though. Today, we are supposed to celebrate the birth of Jesus. As much as I hate to admit it, that truth is taking a backseat to my family's painful reality. I miss Bebe a lot today, and I don't know how to balance that pain with the joy that defines Christmas.

this year's must-have for christmas

my sweet Bebe

I'd like to think that all granddaughters have a close relationship with their grandmother. The more I talk to people, the more I realize how special my relationship with Bebe was. Of all the people in my family, my Bebe knew me the best. She understood what makes me tick, she stood up for me, and she loved me for me.

My Bebe passed away on Tuesday, November 25th. I was with her when Jesus called her home, a moment that both haunts and comforts me in the late hours of the night. In the past two weeks, it's been a struggle to be present in a world that keeps spinning even though it feels like mine came to a screeching halt.

In the 24 years I knew her, Bebe was a beautiful, special woman. Full of life and never short on red lipstick, she never missed the chance to tell you how much she loved you. Yesterday, at her memorial service, my sister, my cousin, and I had the honor of sharing some words to remember her. We chose to use the theme of "Lessons Learned," in an effort to summarize some of the most important lessons Bebe passed on to her granddaughters.

If I had to summarize Bebe in a few words, there is a plethora of words I could choose: memorable, unforgettable, beautiful. But, if I had to pick only one, I'd have to choose the word love. Bebe was a well-loved woman--the evidence of this is in how many people were so deeply sorrowful when they heard of her passing, or the number of cards that filled her hospital rooms. More importantly, Bebe loved her family and friends, those dearest to her, so well, both through her actions and her words. Whether it was her red lipstick on your cheek, her holding your hand in hers during church, or her slight southern drawl as she told you how precious you were to her, Bebe never missed even the smallest chance to tell you how much she loved you. Although she made sure to pour her affection on you when you were with her, she continued to love in other ways when you weren't with her. Every time I talked to her on the phone, she told me how proud she was of our whole family. She did the same with all her friends at Campbellstone and Peachtree Road. With Bebe, there was never a shadow of a doubt that she loved you. Of everything I ever learned from Bebe, I'd have to say that this is the most important lesson of all. It can be summarized by this--a few weeks ago, I was sitting in her room with her at Piedmont, just the two of us. She said these words to me, "Its nice to be important, but its more important to be nice." If I could sum up my Bebe, the beautiful woman that she was, in just a few words, I'd rephrase this last lesson to me: Its nice to be well-loved, but its more important to love well.

I miss her already, so much sometimes that my body aches. Her voice is the last thing I hear at night before I drift off to sleep. This Christmas will be hard for our whole family; it just won't be the same this year. While we can all take comfort in the fact that we will see her again one day, for me the most comforting truth has been this: Bebe can see again, she can see for the first time in thirteen years. Her eyes have been healed, and she can see her Jesus with new eyes. I can't imagine what a sight it must have been for her, that moment when Jesus came to take her home. The first thing she truly saw in thirteen years, the face of our Savior, welcoming her with open arms. While the pain of the reality that she is gone from this earth is deep, the joy of imagining that precious moment for Bebe is all the more comforting. My Bebe is home now, and she can see again.

exhaustion

I am tired. Tired of hard. Tired of wrestling. Tired of being tired.

About three weeks ago, I shut down. Life got too hard, I couldn't handle it anymore. So I shut down, I slammed the door to my heart. This has been the first time in a while now that I haven't let myself feel.

And now, I've turned into a hermit at best and an angry, volatile person at worst. I haven't taken care of myself, I haven't let people take care of me, and I haven't taken care of my friends.

Funny thing is, I don't remember making this decision. It wasn't a conscious, deliberate choice, at least I don't think so. How do I get back in? I'm terrified I won't be able to find the key.

beauty in the breakdown

I saw a movie tonight that was quirky as all get-out, but the central plot-line resonated with something deep inside of me. Carrie Anne and I saw "Rachel Getting Married." Interesting choice for a Friday night, I must say. I'll hold off on a synopsis for now, as I think it might be worth seeing instead of reading about.

There's a scene in the movie where the main character, Kym (played by Anne Hathaway), is sitting in an AA meeting of sorts. She tells a haunting story from when she was 16--already a junkie, she was left in charge of her young brother for the afternoon, and he drowned when she ran the car off a bridge on their way home from the park. By the end of the story, it's apparent that she has shared this with the group as a response to someone's statement about how God has forgiven him or her for whatever drug of choice was abused. She ends by saying that she's not sure if she even wants God to forgive her for what she did. I couldn't ignore the sharp pang in my chest when she said those words. Something inside me agreed with what she said. It surprised me because it was the most honest thing I've heard from my heart in two weeks, but not because I didn't know it was there.

By the end of the movie, I was reminded of something Dan Allender said in the Mars Hill recruitment video Erin sent me. Although there was great tragedy in Kym's story, the end of the movie is a picture of great beauty. Am I willing to believe that the same is true of my story? That my most painful tragedies, my deep heartaches, my contempt and shame, are accompanied by a beauty so great that I can't even begin to fathom it's depths?

I'm reminded also of a passage in "The Horse and His Boy" from the Chronicles of Narnia:

"Don't you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?" said Shasta.
"There was only one lion," said the Voice.
"What on earth do you mean? I've just told you there were at least two the first night, and --"
"There was only one: but he was swift of foot."
"How do you know?"
"I was the lion." And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. "I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion to gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach Kind Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you."
"Then it was you who wounded Aravis?"
"It was I."
"But what for?"
"Child," said the Voice, "I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own."

needing change

I need a new template. This one is boring. Might be some experimenting over the next few days. Not sure exactly how to do this, though? We'll figure it out...

happy halloween?

Too funny not to post. Gotta love this angry dog...

impatient

how long, oh Lord, how long?
how long until you heal?
how long until you redeem?
how long until you return?

my heart is restless and weary,
the perpetual wrestling is taking it's toll
my strength depleted,
my soul dehydrated,
i'm begging for rescue.

so how long, oh Lord, how long?

identity theft

What do you do when you feel like your identity, your self-concept, is melting in your hands? If it comes in the form of a lost relationship, we reach at every loose end, trying to find a way to tie it back together and "fix" it. If it comes in the form of a disease or lost loved one, we comfort ourselves by chalking it up to "God's sovereignty" and completely avoid wrestling with the underlying root of our heart's painful cry.

Yet, a different situation may also arise. What happens when you actually see your flawed self-concept for what it really is, and you realize that it's nothing more than a security blanket you cling to with knuckles white because the reality of living outside that identity is so terrifying? Where do you go from there? While the lies you live in are devastating to your heart, there's some level of comfort in the fact that they haven't been too bad to you for twenty-four years...

Stepping outside of this artificial comfort zone is terrifying. It means a new you, a new Anna. An Anna that lives in the light, an Anna that doesn't cower in fear in the corner. An Anna that wrestles with her story instead of seeing it as repulsive and avoiding it altogether. Even though the new mindset, this new identity, is everything I've always wanted to believe about myself, for some reason I still find it so easy to hold onto to this tattered security blanket of a flawed self-concept.

Instead of seeing myself as permanently marked and repulsively dirty, there is a God who tells me the exact opposite. Isaiah 54 has been my resting place for the past 10 days as I've wrestled with this issue of identity:

"Do not be afraid, you will not suffer shame.
Do not fear disgrace, you will not be humiliated.
You will forget the shame of your youth,
and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood.
For Your Maker is your husband,
the Lord Almighty is his name--
the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer,
he is called God of all the earth."

and now, she's comin' into her own

Today marks six months. What a wild ride it's been. Although the pain has transformed to a deep, dull ache, the reality of it all is at times just as overwhelming as in those first few moments of realized betrayal. 

[He reached down from on high and took hold of me;

he drew me out of deep waters,

he rescued me from my powerful enemy,

from my foes, who were too strong for me.

They confronted me in the day of my disaster,

but the Lord was my support.

He brought me into a spacious place;

he rescued me because he delighted in me]

-Psalm 18:16-19

I wouldn't trade the last six months of my life for anything in the world.

restless night

God calls his people on a path that ends not in arrival, but in anticipation.

- Dan Allender, "The Healing Path"

sharing is overrated

selfish (adj.): 

1. characterized by or manifesting concern and care only for oneself

2. concerned chiefly or only with yourself and your advantage to the exclusion of others

One of the first lessons we learn in social skills in the sandbox is sharing. Think about it--all we're ever told as little kids is to "play nice" and "share." The opposite of sharing, selfishness, is abhorred by mothers of 4 year-olds everywhere. Selfishness is a bad thing, and children who don't share must not be raised right (or so the soccer moms accuse). As we get older, sharing moves to issues beyond shovels and sandboxes. How generous are you with your time? Have you booked every ounce of your schedule so that all of your energy is shared with someone or something? How much money have you given to whatever humanitarian aid cause is the latest fad? 

What I can't figure out is why no one ever told me it's okay to be selfish with my heart. Why is it that now, at 24, this is such a huge lesson for me to learn? Too often, I make excuses for my need to take time for myself. Instead of meeting you for coffee, I tell you I'm "tired." Instead of catching a late-night movie, I claim that I "have work to do." When I make these paltry excuses, what I'm really asking for is your approval. I'm begging you to tell me it's okay to take the time to care for myself. I need you to tell me it's okay to be selfish with my heart, because I don't trust myself to do it on my own.

good tunes

Music, specifically lyrics, cut to my heart pretty quick. Can't seem to get the OneRepublic cd off the iPod playlist--I love these guys' music. Current favorite track is "Prodigal." Simple but great lyrics, in my humble opinion.

so ashamed, so ashamed,

but I need You so,

and You wait for me,

yes, You wait for me.

Been blown away by God's faithfulness recently. Between some good tunes, great friends, and Psalms 18, 86, and 103, I'm wrestling with the gospel in a real, radical way. It's scary as hell some days, hard as crap on others, but on the whole, I wouldn't trade it for anything else on this earth. His pursuit of my heart in the midst of my busyness and complacency is astounding.

absolutely hilarious

worth a listen

Do you know where your heart is?

Do you think you can find it?

Or did you trade it for something

Somewhere better just to have it?

Most days, I can only give an answer for the last question. An honest yes, at best.

Check out OneRepublic's cd. Worth the download. Or the free burn...whichever you prefer :)

let me make my own pattern

in a way, I need a change
from this burnout scene
another time, another town,
another everything
-"shattered," O.A.R.

50 minutes in the life of a 5 year old

I'm currently in graduate school working on a Master's in speech-language pathology. As part of our program, we have clinical practicum in our on-campus clinic. This semester, I'm working with a 5 year old little boy, and I can't help but laugh about some of the things he says to me. Here's a peak into some of our conversations...

(scene: sitting on the floor, attempting to read "Where the Wild Things Are")
boy: "are you a woman?"
me: "yes, I am."
boy: "am I a woman?"
me: "no, you're a boy."
boy: "am I hot?"
me: "I don't know, are you feeling hot right now?"
boy: "hot...ha...hot....ha....am I H?"

(scene: playing Spill the Beans, and the boy hauled off and knocked the whole barrel of beans over)
me: "uh oh, why did you do that?"
boy, looking me straight in the eye: "yes."


Nothing like the candor of a 5 year old.

operational definitions

restless (adj.):
1. marked by lack of quiet, repose, or rest
2. unquiet or uneasy, as a person, the mind, or heart

anticipation (n.):
1. expectation with confidence of fulfillment
2. intuition, foreknowledge, hope

Restless, uneasy, constant mental motion, yet hopeful and anticipatory, eagerly awaiting the day of His return.

Romans 8:18-19, 22-24
"I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed...We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has?"

blog virgin

I'm new to this...do all blogs start with a "why I started to blog post"?

If so, here's my reason: I'm not sure. Maybe to see what all the hype is about? I do enjoy reading other people's blogs, so maybe it's a subconscious peer pressure type thing.

We'll see how it goes.