the bare reality

hard days here, are so. much. harder. 

it's not always that the things that make the day hard are harder, although they can be, i think it's the lack of available responses to the hard. it's the loneliness that comes. it's the awareness that you live in a different land than where you were raised. it's knowing that your people are far, far away. it's the 8-11 hour time difference.  it's the lack of history with the wonderful people who are near by. it's when the gloss comes off.  it's when the card flips and you see the underside of a life you've chosen, a life that has a lot of hard spots.

so i'm making cake balls- or cake pops if i can find some sticks.  i'm listening to beautiful music that takes me back to places i've been, to seasons, to people, to memories.  i'm having a cup of instant starbucks coffee.  i'm remembering that the sun is shining outside my window now even though it rained  all night.

so what is hard?

tomorrow mike leaves for burundi to do a 12 day missions trip with an engineering missions group. i remember when he left to go to america last november, i cried.  i cried and i clung and i felt this massive sense of loss and cleavage. it was the first time he'd gone far away since we'd moved here.  it was the first time he'd be away from me for 3 weeks- in twenty years, and the combination of those things felt huge.  i think it actually was huge because we'd become so attached, so entwined that it felt painful to separate, i felt ripped apart.  i felt not whole.  i felt broken.

only now on the eve of his going again, am i seeing my response to that division.  i took those bits and tried to mend them. i covered up and calloused.  i re-grew my missing arm like a starfish. i made my way with out him.  i sucked it up and decided that it would be fine, i would be, we would be fine, if he were gone.  i moved into places of self-protection.  

so when he went to kenya, i was fine.  when he went to western uganda, i was fine.  but really- i need him in a desperate way, in an uncalloused, naked, armless way.  when he leaves tomorrow, i might cry again- but i will remain bare while bearing it.

what else is hard?

you can't fix other people's lives, not really. 

you can't.  only God can.  you can help, you can be there, you can support, but that's all. and sometimes helping means stepping back and being quiet (even when it's the last thing you want to do).  and sometimes being there means being way in the background.  and sometimes support is just waiting and praying.  these things are hard.

and jude coughing so much  he threw up last night- all over his bed.  and rosie peeing her pants.  and the whining neediness of the dog and the cat. and the lingering people in my yard- always lingering.....

but.

there will be cake pops soon.  and there is music and there are words and people here and people far who i love.  judes cough (and mine) will end.  mike will go and come back.  it will rain and it will shine. we will continue to help each other, to love each other, to walk in each others messes and be there patching and waiting and holding and praying.