This plant has seen better days. It is a cyclamen. It stands for diffidence. Timid Hope. 

That might be the most perfect thing ever.

Test

A few weeks ago I sat with a friend and chatted while our kids played. It felt weird, wrong in some way. Why? Because this friend is a he. I am friends with his wife too and our kids love playing together, but I was self-conscious. What if someone saw us and thought something else? Was I being too forward to sit and talk with him for a half hour, only being "chaperoned" by our children, not our spouses. I enjoyed his company but had that lingering feeling of self-consciousness.

The next day I met with my counselor and mentioned it to her. She pointed out the judgement in my self-consciousness. Who gets to decide who I am friends with? Obviously the answer is me.  

I go to church every Sunday to beg for forgiveness 

I don't want to think about it, I'm not that person anymore. 

I had to leave so many people behind

On this journey

I miss them. 

I miss me.

I don't even know me.

I Disagree

I disagree. Two words I feel uncomfortable saying, or even thinking. Disagreement was rarely tolerated with kindness in my home growing up. People who disagreed with my parents' line of thinking were judged, so why would I dare to disagree with them? That might not actually be fair to say they judged others, but as a child I remember feeling like I shouldn't share what I think if it's different.

Why does God allow suffering?

That first Monday

 That first Monday

My home was empty

We were in our own homes

We didn’t gather

We were out on our own

My home was so empty

My couches so empty

My dishes all clean

The silence was

Deafening 

What do we do now?

I’m in my house in grief

A grief my family

Doesn’t seem to share

Some still there

Some have gone

Now it’s been so long

Who even cares 

Anymore

I wasn’t ready for that empty nest

For the ten years of distance

For the pretending everything is okay

I went off and did my own thing

The “right” thing

I stayed in the fold 

I worked for the shepherd

I distanced myself from those who had walked away

I abandoned my friends

I abandoned myself

And when shit hit the fan

And more shit hit the fan

And even more shit hit the fan

The ones in the fold

Folded

Crumpled

Unable to withstand the depth of my despair

Even I couldn’t stand the deep, drowning waters

But those who had walked away

Listened to their bodies and 

Heard the request for rest

They were ready to really care

To see my exhaustion 

To just be there

Not fix it

Not excuse it

Not minimize it

Not say empty words

Just be

Maybe there will come a time 

When they’re exhausted by me too

But at least the supports are multiplied 

Not divided as 

We once thought they were