45. An Anniversary Blessing

This weekend marks the one year anniversary of my exile from Brown Rd, Olympia. Instead of feeling devastated and reliving the trauma of that weekend, I am choosing (quite easily) to celebrate. Not the loss of my marriage, my Father hates divorce. I'm celebrating the recovery of the child God created me to be.

Today I began to re-read the book of Romans, and was stopped in my tracks by the Holy Spirit before even completing the first chapter! (Kim and Courtney, you might remember me referring to this as the Holy Spirit elbow-to-the-side when you were little :) 

Paul, "an obscure Roman citizen without connections" wrote his letter during a time of literary giants in Roman civilization: royal decrees, important poetry, moral philosophy--yet Paul's letter rose to great influence, surpassing all the world-class writings of the time. How could I not pay attention today?

Paul highlighted for me in Romans 1:22-25 how, from my lofty perch in my home in the forest above Olympia, I had lost sight of my First Love--GOD, who created that forest surrounding that home. I had traded Him for a big house, a pretty yard, an intellectually superior husband, financial security and lots of toys. I went to church, yes, I praised Him with singing, I had a fish on my car---but I had become proud and boastful.  Many times over the past year the thought has not escaped me, how many pictures I had on facebook of my home; or how walking into Costco now stung a little because I could no longer splurge on whatever I fancied. Pride and I had each other over a barrel: we OWNED each other.

Time and time and time again we see how God gently rescues His beloved from themselves, where the story goes like this: they think their world has come to an end; they feel like they've been blindsided; they only see rejection, grief, and loss...until one day Someone opens their eyes to the truth of their situation: RESCUE. GRACE. MERCY. BETTER-THINGS.  My exile from my home was NEVER a punishment (although I certainly deserved punishment). It was never a tool to teach me a lesson. It was never God saying you think you're a bigshot Trace, well let Me just show you what bigshot is... NO!  My exile was a blessing. Being saved from MYSELF was an act of kindness from a Father to His daughter, and Paul made that absolutely clear to me on this important weekend. 

"For although they knew God, they neither glorified Him as God nor gave thanks to Him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like mortal man and birds and animals and reptiles"    ~Romans 1:21-23

45. Mirror Talk

As our hearts face, process, deal with, and eventually heal from their brokenness--betrayal, loss, disappointment-- we GROW. We grow UP, we grow STRONGER, we grow HEALTHIER. During the time of profound grief following a breakup this concept is nearly impossible to grasp. We think, there is no way I'll ever recover from this; no way I'll ever think of this event as simply an intersection in my life... NO!

There are times my Creator speaks to me, saying,  I'm here to tell you, by the name of Jesus who created you, who drives you, who created the entire universe yet is one hundred percent focused on YOU: you will get through this disappointment/ betrayal/loss/grief. You will be healthy and happy again!

Here is an exercise: hold up a mirror, look yourself in the eye, and tell yourself you love yourself. It's good for you, and it makes God happy to hear you say those precious words to yourself. There is a lot of power in words. Just look at what your husband's words did to you! Now, if you know by your own evidence the power that lies in the tongue, then use that very power to lift yourself back up to the woman God created you to be. Look at yourself in the mirror every day and say, out loud, to you: I will be healthy and happy again. God loves me, and I love me, too. God created me to be loved: I AM LOVE-ABLE.

Positive talk to the you in the mirror isn't easy in the beginning. While you're devastated it might even seem impossible; you may have to really force the words out BUT: it gets easier every time you do it. Keep in mind that when you tell yourself that you love you, you are also telling Jesus that you love Him, because He resides in you! He lives in you because He LOVES paradise, and you are paradise to Him! He WANTS to reside in you, He LOVES residing in you! He LOVES the you that He created. Tell Him! Tell you: I LOVE YOU!

44. Mental Memory Boxes

I stubbornly hold on to knick-knacks, trinkets, letters, and photos from my childhood (as well as from both my girls' childhood; how many of us moms have kept every scrap of artwork from our kids' preschool days... I know I'm not alone here!).  There is absolutely nothing wrong with this--it's healthy, comforting, and oftentimes entertaining. I've lost track of how many psychology-based books and articles I've read this year, and have not come across one word condemning moderate possession of keepsakes.

Conversely, keeping memories of loved ones, and days gone by, is also healthy.  We all had good times with the man who left us; this is why his departure from our lives broke our hearts, is it not?  Personally, thinking about my married life, and the ensuing sadness that always arises, is the single biggest struggle I face with my separation. Intrusive memories crash down like waves that wash me out to sea, where I have no solid ground with which to regain my footing. While I'm treading water in those cold depths I can barely catch my breath, much less get myself together.

And let's face it: intrusive memories that make us cry are rarely the bad, ugly, traumatic ones.  I don't recall ever tearing up over thoughts of arguing over which coffee to buy and whether I talk too much; I have never cried thinking about my ex cursing me at the top of his lungs, oh no! The memories that get me are the sunset walks, naming the new puppy, pillow fights.

Sound familiar, yes? Ah... but it's all normal! It's a required part of the healing process. Like it or not, crying about sweet memories will make you stronger someday. It did me!

Letters, pictures, artwork, are all healthy trinkets we can physically hold in our hands. We look, feel, sometimes smell the keepsake and remember the day we obtained it, or the day it was created. In the same way, remembering something we and our ex did together doesn't fulfill any of our five senses, so our brain creates it's own form of trinket in the form of a vivid memory.  We allow the good memories to arise and take over because they are as close to physically touching, seeing, hearing, tasting, and smelling our ex, as we can get.

But when does healthy memory-caching become unhealthy? Look again at my sentence above regarding the books and articles I've read:  I 'have not come across one word condemning moderate possession of keepsakes.'  We've all seen or heard of the TV programs about hoarders--people who cannot seem to let go of anything, and how their homes become unsafe, unsanitary death-traps with narrow pathways cutting through here and there. Sisters, please examine whether your memories--your keepsake boxes--are becoming too full.  Because if they become too full and you keep adding to them, they will, like the hoarders on TV, become unsafe death traps.

One way you can turn your mental keepsakes box, something you can't just close up and put away on a shelf when you're through looking at it, into a tangible one that you can have some control over, is to write. For me, keeping a journal (my blog) has been one of the best tools of recovery I possess. When I feel sad or out of control with a stubborn intrusive memory I pop out my laptop and start writing.

You don't need a laptop, a desktop, a top of any kind.  You don't need a fancy leather-bound journal with JOURNAL embossed on its cover; you don't even need a plastic one, phooey! All you need to convert your mental keepsakes box to a physical one is a pen and some paper.  Use a 99-cent notebook from the Dollar Store.  Use a cheap pack of binder paper and a stapler. Just WRITE. No rules of grammar, no spell-check, just you and your paper.  When you finish I promise you will feel better. Especially once you take the page in your hand and place it on a shelf.

Take control of your memories. Write.

43. Lima Beans and Freight Trains

If you have kids, or if your sibling has kids, or if you ever babysat kids you know one thing for certain: kids like sweet things. Candy, cupcakes, gumballs. My daughter Courtney learned the fine art of faking a cough by the time she was four so she could have a hit of the yummy sweet red stuff Mom poured into a spoon. In the mind of a little kid there is absolutely nothing wrong with living off sweets: they know nothing about cavities or chocolate tummy aches, nor do they care. We, on the other hand, are all too aware of the consequences of devouring an entire econo-pak of jelly beans so we say NO.  Not only do we say NO, but in the same breath we say YOU ARE ARE GOING TO EAT LIMA BEANS TONIGHT WITH YOUR DINNER, because we want the child to grow strong healthy bones, not big painful cavities.

God is the adult. We are the child. Not only is God the adult, he is a RESPONSIBLE adult. He knows what is best for us, even when we have no clue. Nothing is more difficult to grasp than this truth when our world has fallen apart, but we must hold onto the knowledge that our Creator wants us to eat good food and grow.  There really is hope for us when we're stuck eating lima beans. If the path we're on for a time is keeping us from growing; if we've been pigging out on jujubes, rest assured he cares enough about us to take them away and serve us up some lima beans instead, not so we can wrinkle our nose and hang our head, but so we can grow, prosper, and flourish!

 

Along these lines, God showed me a cool lesson one day while I was observing a freight train in the Colombia River Gorge.
I was traveling east on Interstate 84 next to the wide, blue Columbia River. On the other side of the river, a long freight train was also heading east at about the same speed. It was the first time I had ever seen a moving freight train from end to end in it's entirety.  As I pondered this, God spoke to my heart saying, the train you see there is like someone's lifetime. There is a beginning and an end. Each car represents one year of the lifetime. As it moves down the track, a tiny ant is making its way over each and every car.  The ant started at the front of the train and it will finish its journey at the last car.  Each time the ant crosses onto another car it will have passed another year.

The ant cannot comprehend much of whichever car it is on, and it certainly cannot even begin to comprehend the entire train.  You, however, are able to see the entire train, from beginning to end, from your vantage point across the river.  You can see where the ant is headed and where it's been. You can see every car; every year, of it's journey.

God is sitting at the seat in which I sat that day, observing the train with its little ant. He knows where we've been and where we are headed. He knows exactly how many cars are on our train and what obstacles lie on each car. We may not be able to see past the end of our nose in terms of an entire lifetime, but we can take great comfort knowing that God does.

I do not know which car I'm traveling on right now, but it sure seems like a long one. I'm so thankful to know, however, that my Creator is across the river, watching me travel down the track, beginning to end.

A Post Worth Revisiting: Climbing a Mountain

"He knows what is best for me. My environment is of His determining. He means it to intensify my faith, to draw me into nearer communion with Himself, to ripen my power. In the dungeon my soul should prosper...so, let come what will come, His will is welcome; and I shall refuse to be offended in my loving Lord."
           ~Mrs. Charles Cowman's Streams in the Desert:

From my blog December 17, 2009:  45 days into my journey~

Yesterday I had coffee with my friend Lori. I told her how excited it was to be finally in a position of actually seeing God work in this heart-wrenching journey. I haven't known Lori very long, but every time I talk with her she lends a generous pastoral ear, offers sound advice, and gently keeps me grounded in reality. Lori faithfully reminded me that I'll continue to have ups and downs, or ebbs and flows as I continue on towards Life After Divorce; that there will still be times of confusion for me, except now I'll no longer be floating meaninglessly in open sea, going nowhere. Now my ebbs and flows have a sense of purpose and are directing me toward shore.

It was really important for me to hear that. Last night my head cold deteriorated and I started feeling really lousy. That in turn opened me up to some back territory: little stabs of depression and self pity. What little sleep I did get was interrupted by bad dreams. I awoke several times with a fever and coughing, and just had an all-around cruddy night.

This morning I was reminded of Lori's counsel that there will continue to be ups and downs. Had I not heard that yesterday I would have awakened this morning feeling like all my earlier successes were shot; I'd hopelessly feel like I'm never going to find peace. Sitting at the table of reality is such a fine place to be! Of course there are going to be ups and downs in my future. Clearing one hurdle doesn't mean through with the race is through. The devotion above helps remind me that God is sending me UP this mountain slowly, one step at a time. Sometimes I'll slip and fall back but when I do I'll re-climb in steps already planted into the mountainside. These little slips backward only serve to nurture, fuel, and validate my climb.

I will never be offended that my Lord is doing what is absolutely best for me; that He has a plan for a much, much better life for me.

42. Please Don't Let Go...!

In the opening scene from the 1993 film Cliffhanger starring Sylvester Stallone, a young woman dangles perilously from a failed safety harness above a seemingly bottomless crevasse, high in the Colorado Rockies.  Stallone rushes to her aid, himself securely attached to solid lines, reaches out his hand, and grasps hers in a desperate attempt to keep her from falling to certain death. The struggle that follows reveals the terrified woman pleading, with all the heart-wrenching anguish she possesses, 'Please don't let go, don't let me go'!  It is a movie scene I'll never forget...


Last weekend I drove to my old city, Olympia.  I was scared to death--came close to chickening out and canceling more than once.  In nine months I had never been farther north than Woodland - just ten miles north of where I live now.  Traveling any further has always been too painful; simply out of the question.

On this day, July 31st, I had been invited to the birthday party of a very special little girl who lives in Olympia. She had been through a tough year with her mama, my dear friend Kim, having been deployed to Iraq.  She was turning 11 and her Aunt Tracy was expected to be there for the big event!  While the prospect of driving to Olympia terrified me, I simply could not disappoint my precious little friend by not attending her party, and I really did want to see the family.  I agreed to go, and determined to follow through on my promise come hell or high water.

The week preceding my drive up I had two or three moments of panic.  I was depressed and scared.  I did not think I'd mentally survive actually being in Olympia, driving the roads I know oh-so-well. Knowing I would be within a few miles of my home.  My husband.  My heartbreak. What if I got halfway there and froze? What if I got TO Olympia and froze? What if I got too scared to come back? All these questions and fears swirled around my head for a week.

When Saturday arrived I prayed most of the morning, and set out around 11 am.  As I approached the Woodland exit I felt the Spirit of the Lord in the car with me, with a calm manner and a sweet voice that simply said, in less than a mile we will be stepping into the river you fear so much.  The water will be very swift, and deep.  But I want you to know that you'll not be crossing the river alone; you will be on My back; I'll be carrying you, to the other side and back again.  You will return to this shore unscathed.  Are you ready, child...?

And then I was past Woodland.  And I was completely at peace.  The further north I drove, the more powerful my peace was.  My Creator kept asking how are you doing, Trace, and my answer was always, doing great, Father.  Over and over He said to me, just keep your eyes on the road and you'll see Me.  Before I knew it I reached my destination and found myself helping keep a half dozen ten-year-olds together.  I had a wonderful time!  On the drive back home, same thing:  nothing but peace.  Before I knew it I was crossing south through Woodland and back into Vancouver; home again safe and sound--and very, very happy.

Sometime later in the week I was praying and meditating on God's grace and mercy and I considered that opening scene in Cliffhanger.  I thought to myself:  God, who created the entire, vast universe, is like Stallone in that scene:  hanging on tightly to my hand while I dangle precariously above the crevasse, pleading with every ounce of my being for Him not to let go of me.  But I had it wrong.

His gentle spirit spoke again, saying no, child, it is not I who is secured to the rope, clinging tightly to your hand while you beg Me not to let go; you are the one safely secured, and I am begging you not to let go of Me. 


So great is the love of our Father, who keeps us safely secured without our even knowing it!  He created EVERYTHING we know; He owns it all--Psalm 50:10-11 says "For all the animals of the forest are mine, and I own the cattle on a thousand hills. I know every bird on the mountains, and all the animals of the field" --yet he begs us not to let go of Him.

Is there really any way at all to comprehend this?  I am at a loss to be able to do so.  Thinking about His vast love for me; His concern for me, is so comforting!  He truly is my rock--He is my new husband!  I am so in love with Him and so grateful for His grace.  My trip to Olympia last weekend, something I feared mightily, has given me new eyes with which to eagerly watch my future horizons.  I now have a solid MIRACLE in my arsenal to draw from when I need strength to do battle: when memories come calling, or depression comes crashing down, or fear tries to paralyze me.

My life will, from this day forward, never be the same!

41. My Dear Dad

Once when I was 17 my dad came home from work early to find me not in school, and sitting at the dining table with red puffy eyes.  He asked why I was home, and why I was crying.  My boyfriend had broken up with me--and it was simply the end of life as I knew it!

Dad didn't lecture me about cutting school, nor did he work on the project he had come home early for.  Instead he took me by the arm, handed me some kleenex and said we're going for a drive.  I didn't feel like talking and he didn't ask one question.  My teenage heart had been broken and he allowed me the space I needed to process that.

Ten years before, my brother and I had spent our weekends and summers at a place called Lost Isle.  It was an island in the Sacramento Delta where Dad had lived for a time.  Accessible only by boat, we would meet every Friday night at the marina and head off to the island.  My brother and I knew every square inch of the island and all it's boat slips.  We were completely at home running up and down the docks and hanging our feet in the water.  We knew the smell of creosote and two-stroke fuel.  We knew who owned every boat there, which were ski boats, which were cruisers, and which were lazy houseboats.  Lost Isle, and other boat docks, were a huge part of my childhood.

On the day Dad found me ditching school and crying, he drove me to Light 29 Marina on the Sacramento River.  The smell of the creosote, the gentle rocking of the docks, and the squeaking of the slip bladders all brought great joy to me as memories of my earlier childhood came flooding back.  We had lunch at the dingy little diner on the marina, cheeseburgers and cokes.  By the time we returned home I was smiling again.

Today, Alzheimer's Disease ravages my dad.  He is quickly losing his battle; deteriorating before our eyes.  He has had Alzheimer's for a long time but fortunately remained in the early stages of the disease for a long time, with small bouts of forgetfulness here and there.  Now he has entered into a late stage and has been placed in a memory care center to keep him safe.

Three months ago, Dad began showing signs he might be slipping further into his dementia.  He was very sad and depressed.  I decided to surprise him with a day trip, just the two of us.  Remembering the day 32 years earlier when he took me to Light 29 for some cheering up, I helped him put his deck shoes on and drove him to a marina in Portland for lunch and a personalized tour.  We saw many beautiful boats, but Dad didn't really seem to understand where he was or what we were doing.  He just smiled quietly the entire time we were there.  It was a sad but beautiful day for me.

Dad always said life goes on.  Someday he will be gone, and I'll miss him very much.  But life will go on, and I will take the gems I learned from Dad with me while I continue on my own journey, and I will be at peace.

40. Trace, Kind of All Over the Place...

I am sometimes utterly amazed when I watch God orchestrate goodness out of the messes we make.  His timing, His grace, His mercy...

Six and a half months ago I would never have believed anything positive could be made with, or of my life.  When someone would say to me Trace, there's a reason for everything, or God has a plan just be patient, it was tough to put much stock in that.  Sometimes I laugh about it.  Sometimes cry.  (Still.)  Sometimes get really mad.  Through it all, though, I've learned a lot about God:  His timing, His plan, His direction.

My situation, like so many divorce tragedies, begs the question:  Did God cause my husband to stop loving me?  (No.)  Did He cause me to have a broken heart just so I'd return to Him on a new level?  Is that how He works--does he arrange for people to grieve, to force their hand and get them to praise Him?  (No.)  If He didn't arrange it then, did God allow my marriage to be destroyed; and is he allowing me to experience absolute anguish 150 or so times a day?

The latter is a question that's been asked and debated by theologians, scholars, and poets for centuries, is it not?  How could a simple person like me answer this... I just cannot.  But I do have a theory:  I know God doesn't like sadness.  He doesn't like depression, anxiety, self-pity, or grief.  He doesn't want us to be heart-broken.  Yet, I cannot deny it:  I have grown in Christ since my heart was broken and my marriage stolen.  I've studied the Word much more; attended church more regularly.  Still, I prefer to believe I've also grown in Christ in spite of having my heart broken and marriage stolen, not just because of it.

When my separation was brand new and I was still completely numb with shock, I turned to the Bible for answers (and for peace) and two scriptures jumped off the page at me.  The first was shown to me at five in the morning after my first night in Spokane, and I eventually made it my sidebar quote for this blog:   "You asked 'who is this that questions My wisdom with such ignorance?'   It is I--and I was talking about things I knew nothing about; things far too wonderful for me" --Job 42:3

The second came a day or so later and became the foundation for a ministry I hope to start some day, working with women whose hearts have been broken through divorce or breakup:  "I want to report to you, friends, that my imprisonment here has had the opposite of its intended effect.  Instead of being squelched, the Message has actually prospered" --Philippians 1:12

Did God give me peace on that first morning?  Definitely; peace wrapped in a blanket of wisdom.  Will my ministry launch?  I don't know... it's definitely a goal of mine.  If I am able to encourage just one woman whose life has been ripped apart by the words I don't love you anymore, my vision will be complete. God will be triumphant if His mere presence is shown to another doubtful broken heart.

And that will make my own journey a little more clear.

37. King David and me

It occurred to me the other day that my posts are a set of serious mood swings!  I shared my concern with Kim and she immediately reminded me about King David. The Book of Psalms, 150 chapters of sacred poems composed primarily by a man referred to as having a heart 'most like God's', is a collection of incredibly diverse emotions and feelings.  


Dr. Jerry Vines www.jerryvines.com writes:
"In many ways the Christian life is no different from the life of any other person. Life has its good days and its bad days. You will experienceups and downs in life. Life very often is a series of hills and valleys. That's one of the reasons I enjoy reading the book of Psalms. 

The book of Psalms is a book written especially for the human emotions. Every possible range of human emotions can be found in the book of Psalms. The Psalmists pluck every string of the human emotion.

Sometimes the Psalmist wrote and said, "Out of the depths I cried unto you." On other occasions he writes a Psalm and it says, "The lions have fallen out unto me in pleasant places." So I like the Psalms because they deal with these mood swings, with these differences in human emotions.

There are many people who have a hard time dealing with the changing circumstances and the variety of moods which come to them in life. It's not easy for them to cope with these mood swings. There are some, of course, who have mood swings which are chemically driven. There are mood swings which have to do with chemical malfunctions in the brain. There are times when people need to have Christian care and Christian counseling and Christian medicine to help them get through some of these brain disorders that may come. These are more severe. These are more serious mood swings which some people have to deal with.

Some people have to deal with issues of depression, and they are not able to get themselves out of the tank of depression and they need some specialized Christian care to help them through that difficulty.

I'm not dealing so much with those kinds of severe mood swings this evening as I am just dealing with the things that seem to come to all of us. I want to talk with you a little bit tonight about these mood swings which are specifically mentioned in these verses, and I want you to see that God is available to us in all of these times of different emotional experiences.

In the book of Psalms, Psalm 31, verse 15, he says, "My times are in Your hand; deliver me from the hand of my enemies, and from those who persecute me." There is no time or circumstance or mood that you will go through which is beyond the ability of God to help.


Deuteronomy 33: 25, says, "As your days, so shall your strength be." That means that whatever you are going though on any particular day, God can give you the strength, and God can help you to get through that particular time."
~ Dr. Jerry Vines
   February 27, 2005


I believe everyone has mood swings; this is how we are wired.  I believe God knew exactly what He was doing when He designed our personalities; when he wrote out our emotions and feelings.  I believe God makes NO mistakes.  The ups and downs illustrated in my blog identify who I am right now:  an intelligent woman who's porcelain heart has been smashed into tiny shards.  I refuse to be fearful of sharing my pain.   If I feel victorious one day I will praise God, sing, write, create.  And if I crash to into the valley the next day I will whimper, question, and cry out to God.  Walking through a valley after standing on a mountain top is NOT a sign of defeat, it's a testament to who, how, and what we are!

36. Who Gave You the Keys to my Soul?

Today is May 1st.  Six months ago today I hit that highway.  Half a year has gone by, the hardest, most gut-wrenching experience I've ever imagined could happen.

Tracy, Bright and Dark
Some days I wake up in the morning and an inkling of hope dances in the air: I'm motivated to live again.  I hop out of bed, fix coffee, and go for a walk. How I love those mornings!  Other days,  however, I wake up aware of only the ticking of my parents' grandfather clock; nothing more. The rest of the world is blank, and I know it's going to be a dark day.  On those days I'm more aware of my physical pain, also.  My shoulders, wrists and ankles ache from the pain of my arthritis.  I get up and usually go right back to bed, afraid and unmotivated to face my world.  These are the days I ask God:

Why is it that my husband is allowed to have so much control over how I feel?  Why am I not strong enough to throw him out of my head?

Why does he have the power to make me sooo angry at myself?  Who gave him that power???

Why does he have the power to rob me of the motivation to get a job... to write... to take pictures... to sing... to pray?  To get out of bed?

Why does he have the power to rob me of my joy?  Who gave him the keys to my soul?

When will I be able to retake control of my own happiness:  not medication-happiness?  When will I stop being afraid of my future?

33. Some of my favorite poetry and quotes

"In the dark immensity of night
I stood upon a hill and watched the light
Of a star,
Soundless and beautiful and far.


A scientist standing there with me
Said, 'it is not the star you see,
But a glow
That left the star light years ago.'


People are like stars in a timeless sky;
The light of a good person's life shines high,
Golden and splendid
Long after his brief earth years are ended."
~ Grace V. Watkins

"Recovery seems far and distant,
The road to healing, a long and lonely one.
Stand by me.  Offer me your presence,
Your ears and your love.

Acknowledge my pain,
It is so real and ever present.
I am overwhelmed with sad and conflicting thoughts.
Lend me your hope for awhile.

A time will come when I heal,
And I will lend my renewed hope to others."
-Eloise Cole

"Wisdom is seeing the shape of your life
without obliterating...or getting over
a single instant of it."
~ Albert Huffstickler



"Pathological Narcissists only discard the best, most precious of gems of people... not the worst. They despise the strong, principled, decent & honest. Their discarding of you is then their highest commendation of your worth!" - A.V., from lisaescott.com

"There's no need to miss someone from your past; there's a reason they didn't make it into your future"   ~ unknown


"By the time you swear you're his, 
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, and undying,
Lady make note of this:
One of you is lying."
--Dorothy Parker, 'Unfortunate Coincidence'




"I heard there was a secret chord 
That David played, and it pleased the Lord,
But--you  don't really care for music, do ya...
It goes like this:  a fourth, a fifth,
A Minor Fall, a major lift,
A baffled king composing
Hallelujah.
Your faith was strong, but you needed proof,
You saw her bathing on the roof, 
Her beauty--and the moonlight overthrew ya.
Well she tied you to her kitchen chair,
Broke your throne,
Cut your hair, 
And from your lips she drew a
Hallelujah.
Maybe, there's a God above, but
All I've ever learned from love 
Is how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya.
It's not a cry that you hear at night,
It's not someone who's seen the light,
It's a cold and it's a broken
Hallelujah... "
           ~Leonard Cohen

^"2Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, ³because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. ⁴Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." ~James 1:2-4

"Stop and turn around

My arms are open wide

Come and let Me hold you

and dry the tears you've cried

In My arms no one will hurt you,

in My arms you will be free

from all the painful memories

that now are destroying thee..."

~ Susan Carlson

"We must be willing to let go of the life we had planned, so as to accept the life that is waiting for us"  -Joseph Campbell

31. Getting By

The time I spend in fellowship with God has decreased.  I'm human--subject to human frailty, human limitations, human failures.  No one knows I need to spend more time with God than me.  (Except God.)  I can wake up and say today I'll get back into the Word, and start praying more till the cows come home but until I get that real happiness, peace, and joy is tied to those things, I will have to be content just getting through each day.

And getting through each day is exactly what I am doing now.  Some days happiness abounds, most days sadness, or worse... apathy rules the day.  Blank, complacent emptiness.  Exactly what the enemy of God wants.  Let's face it, if we are in a state of happiness and joy we thank God and offer Him praise.  If we're in a state of grief and sadness we beg God and ask him to help us out.   Either way, we're relating with our Creator.  It's when we feel neither joy nor sadness; neither thankfulness nor self pity; just plain apathy, that we're most likely to ignore God.   When there is no reason to commune with Him--that's when complacency settles in.  That's when the enemy celebrates.

I can just see the angels on apathy day:  jumping around, yelling our name, shaking us by the lapel, shouting hey... wake UP!  Don't you know the Creator adores you?  Don't you know He's calling your name right this very moment?  He wants to chat with you!  He wants to hold you, look you in the face, smile on you!  Don't ignore Him, talk to him!  Read His word, learn about Him.  Don't let Satan keep you fat and lazy... take back your joy!  Sing, dance, praise Him!  Do something.

Or don't.  And get by.

30. A New Trauma

Yesterday marked the five month anniversary of the day I woke up on the floor of my granddaughter's bedroom in Spokane, WA to the sickening realization that my husband no longer loved me.  Today Kim and I are in Spokane for an Easter visit with Courtney and her family.  All has been going smoothly; awesome visit, fun time with grandbabies, hugs all around.

Yesterday morning around 9 a.m. my daughter Kimberly calmly walked to the sofa, sat down, and had a massive grand mal seizure.  No one in my family has ever had a seizure.  Or even seen a seizure.

The boys and I were making pancakes (pamcakes, grammie, pamcakes!), Kim and he rest of the fam were sitting at the breakfast bar talking and laughing.  Kimi stood up and walked over to the sofa, I told my grandsons not to get so close to the hot skillet, Kimi sat down, I sent my grandsons out of the kitchen for getting too close to the skillet... and Kimi stretched out her arms in the sunshine.  Every detail of every moment from that point on will haunt me forever.

I smiled at Kim, then asked her what she was doing, then asked again, then called her name sternly.  No response.  Just continued arm stretching.  Only something was wrong, wrong with the way her hands were bent.  And her fingers.  And her head. CALL 911! I barked to my son in law while I ran to my daughter.  I stood before her bent, twisted shape... and completely fell apart.  Her fingers, her beautiful long nails, were curled unnaturally into claws.  Her face was contorted, her mouth bent down to the left, with foamy bubbles coming out of her clenched lips.  While I watched in horror she began to twitch, rhythmically and quickly.  My baby, my beautiful precious Kimberly, who runs in marathons and bikes 40 miles to work, was seizing--quite literally dying from hypoxia--eight inches from me and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

When medical aid arrived Kim was still unconscious, and when she came around she was confused and combative.  She was transferred to a local hospital and given a CAT scan, which showed no abnormalities.  She was also given a test to measure her blood sugar and the results showed an impressively low glucose level.  The physicians involved in her care agreed Kim's seizure was most likely a result of her low blood sugar.  She was given some glucose in her IV and a roast beef sandwich and sent home.

The picture of my beautiful, strong daughter rigid and convulsing is forever etched in my mind.   Saturday night as I tried to drift off to sleep it stabbed my vision, snapping me wide awake.   Next morning, Easter Sunday, I took a few minutes to pray; on the very spot I prayed to survive the day five months earlier--next to my granddaughter's crib.  I bowed my head and thanked God for delivering Kimi safely through the event, then asked Him to please remove the vision of it from my mind.  It was a simple prayer, only a minute or two long.  But God heard.  He listened.  He healed.  The picture of the event has now combined with my clinical experience gained as an EMT, and formed a type of shelf in my brain from which to choose educational material.   The trauma of watching the seizure has lost its sting AND has given me something new to think about when pieces of my divorce try to bring me down!  A new trauma.  A new lesson.  A new day.

29. The Box

Four months and four days ago, on November 25th, my facebook status read "Today I received five boxes of my life on a UPS truck".

I remember the day like it was yesterday.  It was an icy, foggy Spokane morning.  I had been expecting a package from Rob containing my winter coat and some other things. The doorbell rang and I opened the door to the UPS man.  He said simply hi, packages for Dyer and I signed the signature scanner.

I shivered in the cold while he unloaded five large boxes with a handcart.  What the hell...?? I thought.  "They're very heavy" he warned, and he set them on the asphalt driveway next to the garage door.  When he left I stood there freezing and contemplated the stack of boxes as tall as me.   A sadder moment has never existed I thought wearily.  I pictured him searching our home for any and all items of mine he could rid himself of, box up and ship to me. Suddenly one box caught my attention, and I was struck by a sickening realization that nearly dropped me right to my knees.

Stacked second from the bottom was a u-haul box marked by sharpie with the words fragile and kitchen staples in my own hand.   It was the very box I had so lovingly packed with kitchen items we would use at our extended stay hotel after our move from Utah to Olympia.  I had carefully chosen which spices and seasonings, utensils, and pantry goods we would use at our home-away-from-home, and packed them into a box.  The rest of the kitchen--and house--would be left for the moving company after we purchased a home in Olympia.

I found it sickening --and disturbing-- that Rob found and used the very same box to ship my belongings after kicking me out of our Olympia home; my heart broke while I stared at the words I had so excitingly written eighteen months earlier.



Today the box sits out in mom and dad's driveway.  Twice I've started to destroy the thing but I can't seem to do it.  I have no idea why but I just cannot get rid of it.  Not yet.  Don't know what I'm waiting for, when I do this will be the first place to which I turn.

28. Just Like the Dream. Only Different.

Yesterday I had a temper tantrum. Kim and I were driving here and there, errands, coffee, spending, and three or four things brought up memories, which of course brought me down. When the mere discussion of cappuccino took hold ::Shoreline, our coffee hut on the corner, velvet couches and free copies of the Seattle Times, baristas with nose rings who made the most amazing foam art in every cup:: I broke down. Only this time I didn't break down into a withered little flower, I broke down into...Rob. A steering-wheel hitting, oath-flying, mad-as-hell grown up having a full on, no holes barred temper tantrum.

My tirade was several minutes long, and when it was over we were somehow parked, engine and lights off, parking brake engaged, and keys in hand, in front of Joanne Fabrics. (How the hell did we get here...?) When it ended Kim spoke, and her words were encouraging, strengthening, and congratulatory! She said Mom, listen to you! You are pissed! You finally sound like the strong, vital woman you were created to be. Listen to all this worth coming out!

It was the first time Kim witnessed in me a step toward healing... a real step, not some namby pamby feel-good step from a self help book. She told me she LOVED this; my vitriol spoke healthy mommy to her. This was new, and it was very good.

It must have made an impression on me: last night I had a dream. It took place, of course, at the ocean. This time, however,there were no teary goodbyes; some dream vacation was not coming to an end. It was actually the last day I ever saw my husband: with his family at the birthday party, only this time we were at the beach. After saying pleasant goodbyes, removing a checkbook from the oven and trying to see if I could cast a giant fishing rod into the surf even though nobody else had ever fished there (I could, and I did catch a fish), Rob and I headed home.

Somewhere down the road real time history repeated itself: I said or did something wrong, Rob got mad and launched into a perfect replica of the assault that sent me on THE WALK. This time however, the ending was different. Kimi was in the truck with us. The harvested, dead apple orchards along the road at the original incident were now in full bloom. And I was empowered. I let loose on my husband, the man who emotionally bruised me for five years, with everything I had; I was a double barreled shotgun and I held not one round back. My daughter and the blooming apple orchards backed me up with their very presence.

Kim spent the night last night. Right now she's in the living room on her laptop; she just brought me a fantastic Kimi smoothie. It's springtime. I'm blogging. It's going to be a great day.

27. I was Someone Important?

This morning I sat chatting with mom and dad. Somehow we got onto the subject of when I was a baby, and mom told me that I was a 'pretty baby' and that people used to come up and admire her 'beautiful baby'. I was astonished. I've seen my baby pictures and, frankly, have never been impressed. Adalie... now that's a beautiful baby. I was just... normal. Short brown hair. Brown eyes. Small overbite. But, according to mom, I turned heads.

She told me that, in fact, she would take me into the hospital where I was born and the nurses would line up to hold me and take me around the place. "You were not just cute, but you were Dr. Curran's granddaughter, and to be seen holding you was huge. Dr. Curran, my grandfather, wasn't just a practicing physician at Arcade Hospital, he was one of the founding physicians of the hospital; the man had a PHONE in his car!

So. The feeling that overcame me after mom shared this news with me was peace. I looked at her and, with all the sincerity I could put forth said: I was someone important? Mom and dad were silent. I gazed at the floor, smiling; I simply couldn't believe this. Me? Someone to be seen with? Holy Moly!! It was a brand new identity for me; I felt like another person, someone not myself. I've always been the leaner; the reacher: always reaching to be with the important person. I'll be spending some time now thinking about how to deal with; how to index this revelation about myself. I think I'm going to like it.

26. Apple Trees and Wind Chimes

Apple Blossoms and Wind Chimes   
I saw a shrink today: memories and flashbacks are killing me dead. He pressed for specific instances: sights, sounds, smells, that bring on these debilitating flashbacks. He wanted specifics so I dug deep and brought them out: Last spring, a morning spent filming and photographing the apple blossoms on our beautiful tree next to the back porch. It's a warm spring day. The dogs are stretched out soaking up the sun, birds are singing, and the apple blossoms are dancing in a light, fresh breeze. Our acre of lawn has been freshly mown in neat diagonal strips--I cut it myself just the day before--and the scent of cut grass has mingled with baby honeysuckle growing on the porch. It's delightfully peaceful; I am in heaven.

Today the window from my room faces a concrete driveway, right next to another concrete driveway. Squeezed between the two is a small apple tree that my mom planted a few years ago. Last month she had the thing pruned and the branches tied in a bundle. Alas, two days ago the decapitated blooms stubbornly opened up in their dead pile. Apple blossoms. Back yard. Sunny lawn. Home. The little blooms flashed the sweet, tender, and dreadfully cruel picture of my day filming... and another cold, dark wave crashed down yet again. I marched out and stuffed the offending branches into a refuse can where they could no longer taunt my war-torn brain. Closed the lid tight on the little blossoms; God's beauty, refusing to die, showing His faithfulness, stuffed in a trash can. I did that.

********
It is Saturday in April. We've just picked up my brand new engagement ring, and now are driving up to the San Juan Islands for the day. Following a walk around Friday Harbor we sit down to lunch in a delightful cafe; Jack Johnson is singing in the background. We're talking, laughing, holding hands. We visit some gift shops, and Rob surprises me with a beautiful wind chime. This gift I will cherish forever, and though I don't know it at the time, the wind chime will hang from the front porch of my next five homes.

Today I hear wind chimes singing in the wind outside my bedroom window. Their music is beautiful; as much as I like wind chimes I should be enthralled with them. Instead, their song makes me sad, puts me in a funk; takes me back to the day with Rob at Friday Harbor. Another wave crashes down. So much sadness.

**********

With my sadness this time, however, comes a delightful treat: With the doc's gentle counsel I've come to realize that my bouts of blues, depression, memories, sadness, homesickness, waves--seem to be focused on things surrounding Rob, rather than on Rob himself! I felt truly empowered by this revelation. Another step towards success in overcoming this horrendous chapter in my life. Freedom is not too far off.

25. Bad Dreams Do Come True...

Friday Sissy had given me the entire day off for some much-needed R & R. Kimi and I went up to Silver Star mountain in eastern Clark County. We had a fabulous time together, saw some spectacular scenery and took photos that are quite frameable. It was a memorable day trip, one that I'll always remember. We look forward to more trips, and later this spring, some day hikes. Our day ended with dinner at an old favorite pizza place from her childhood and a sleepover at her place. It was a blast!

Unfortunately, when I went to bed I was visited by an old acquaintance: depression. I have no idea how it popped up, or from where it came, but as I was lying in bed listening to distant traffic sounds I suddenly found myself intensely missing Rob. I even said out loud to the darkness 'I love you so much, babe' just to remember what it sounded like. The night was very, very long; I listened to the clock downstairs strike two, then three, then four a.m. before finally drifting off to sleep.

I'm no psychologist, but something in my pea brain tells me this event is somehow related to the fact that the delightful day with my daughter was just hours from being over ::warm ocean beach:: and that when the sun rose I would be leaving her ::trip's over...time to go back:: and returning to work. Saying goodbye to my mini vacation; my precious time with my best friend in the whole world ::saying goodbye, going back, say goodbye, tracy, don't cry now::

Not surprisingly, later that afternoon I had another bout of long-buried memories, this time very detailed visions of the warm, sunny day Rob and I drove around Ogden shopping for new bathroom appliances: ceramic sinks, tile, brushed antique fixtures, followed by cheeseburgers at our favorite burger joint...

Where did this come from? I thought this nonsense was over??!? I suppose a strongly worded letter to God is in order! Seriously, maybe I should attribute it to all the craziness at home right now as well as the fact that my pharmaceutical strategy is being tweaked: tapering off Prozac and starting something new called Lamictral. Honestly, I suppose I'd gladly exchange setbacks like this for final healing!

As far as the outlook for my future, I'm still in a holding pattern as to what to do with my life! Two weeks ago I met a delightful Medical Assistant named Tracy and she seriously talked me into going to MA school; said I would not regret it one bit. After talking with her I made the decision that that was exactly what I would do. Go to MA school: it's one year plus a few classes this spring and summer. I remained positive about my decision until two days ago, when I had a no-holes-barred conversation with Rob about money, health insurance, and filing divorce papers. It was difficult and painful conversation, but very necessary. He said that considering my family circumstances, he'll continue to give me a support check every week for three more months, then he will stop. Legally he doesn't have to give me any support at all; our prenuptial agreement protects him from that. He has offered to give me this money. It is generous of him and has been much, much appreciated.

We decided when the support ends in three months he will have to pay me the money he owes me in full, which is mostly repayment of my portion of the down payment on our home in Olympia. (This is the money I've been planning to live on while attending school). We further agreed that we have no reason to rush filing our divorce papers for the simple reason that while we're married he can keep me on his health insurance plan. It doesn't cost him anything to do this, and I've made it clear to him that without insurance I'll be in deep trouble, with my joint problems.

After our conversation however, I began to think about whether it's detrimental to my emotional healing to stay legally married to Rob. This is a man who left me on the side of a highway four months ago, never to see me again. The same man who screens my phone calls, refusing to talk to me. (This last conversation happened only because I called him from my aunt's phone with a California number.) The same man who refused to read the biblically principled letter I carefully and prayerfully composed, apologizing for my role in the demise of our marriage and asking for forgiveness.

Now I'm going back and forth on whether to accept staying legally married to a man who not only doesn't love me, but apparently doesn't even like me, to stay insured; or to give up my dream of going to school and taking a job with medical benefits, and putting an end to this miserable chapter of my life. There will be more contemplating, considering, and praying on this important decision, but time is running short. Spring classes begin in three weeks.

24. So Much More than Me

"What do you see, on the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea, a pale moon rises
Your ship has come to carry you home..."
~Annie Lennox

What a crazy time. Dad has constant needs that demand near full-time care, and my darling mom, his care-giver, is down herself. She had major surgery on February 18th, and seven days later, on the day she was due to be discharged from the hospital she developed severe complications and was rushed into more surgery. She finally did come home March 1st, and her dear sister flew up help with the transition and initial care she will require. On top of that, daughter Kimi had painful rotator cuff surgery and is moderately disabled herself, depending on me alone to drive her everywhere. We're hoping she'll be able to start driving a car this weekend.

This morning Aunt Kathleen left to go back home to Sacramento and I have to say, things are sure different here at the house. There is no doubt in my mind that God has placed me here for two purposes: one, to take care of my folks and two, to focus my ongoing emotional pain and anguish on something more positive. Taking care of two adults with full time medical needs is more than a full time job, and it keeps my mind too busy to miss my old life in Olympia.

Today the sun was out, the weather was warm, and the cherry trees are in full peak bloom. It was a beautiful day; thank You, Creator! Thank You also, for the blessing of two wonderful sisters: Dad's sister Janet, to whom we were able to send him during Mom's initial surgery, and Mom's sister Kathleen, aka Sissy, who dropped everything when I called and asked her to fly up and help out. I love you gals!

23. Valentine's Day

"I've heard there was a secret chord

that David played, and it pleased the Lord

but, you don't really care for music, do ya?

It goes like this: a fourth, a fifth,

a minor fall--a major lift

the baffled king composing Hallelujah!"

-Leonard Cohen

Mr. Cohen's famous song was performed yesterday at the opening ceremony for the 2010 Olympics, by one of my favorite singers of all time, KD Lange. Her rendition of the incredible song was one of the most profoundly moving performances that I've ever seen or heard in my lifetime. The performance immediately went up for sale on iTunes and I bought it--it's been haunting me all night and all day today. When I listen to it I get goosebumps, and tears come to my eyes! It's absolutely moving.


Today is Valentine's Day. I think it's really cool that this song is at the forefront of my thoughts, because really the story of David is one of the most compelling love stories in the entire Bible. I feel close to this king. His ups and downs have been an integral part of my own healing process; I've drawn a lot of strength from his experiences. His weaknesses. His humanness.

Today I slept in and decided not to even get dressed. Because I can! Last night went to the mall and bought myself some much-needed shoes and make-up. What an incredible difference my solo journey around the mall was from the one in Spokane three months ago. I had a smile on my face; enjoyed seeing people, got some exercise--and not even the Valentine stuff everywhere bothered me. Thank You, God, for bringing me such a long way!


I'm enjoying listening to music, burning some new CDs, and just relaxing. Have decided that beginning tomorrow, Monday, I'm going to set my alarm for 0700 every day and haul my ass out of bed. I'll make some coffee, do my Bible study, check my email and be doing some sort of exercise by 8 every day, either walking, riding mom's bike, or just stretching and doing some yoga.


Started seeing a medical doctor, a psychiatrist last week.  Dr. J -- my new best friend. He will be tapering me off my anti-depressant Prozac, which I've been taking for years. He believes it is contributing to wild mood swings, which he says I do NOT have to put up with. Wow. Is that what my big crashing dark waves are? I really, really like this doctor. We connected well and he called me 'trace' which is something I love after meeting a person for the first time. Since childhood that has been an odd little thing that puts me at ease with strangers.


He also wants me to take a very, very small dose of xanax every day for a while. I think it will be during my prozac withdrawl period? The dose is small enough to be calming but not make me sleepy; one-sixth of a mg per day. Better get a pill cutter, those are some tiny chunks!  I have no reason to hide anything I learn from my psychiatrist, and will update this journal after every visit. I'm going to continue my telephone sessions with Gayle also, and look forward to one this Tuesday.


Dr. J told me he believes I have some fairly impressive obsessive tendencies and we'll explore that further in future visits. Like the memory boxes of little things I stubbornly hold on to from my childhood as well as both my girls' childhood; Dr. J believes I'm 'hoarding' my memories of life with Rob. (He didn't use that term). In spite of the fact that I was treated very poorly by him, I allow the good memories to arise and take over, and keep those securely in my head because that's as close to physically touching, seeing, and smelling Rob I can get: there is no memory box full of trinkets to represent smiles, words, and times together. So, my brain creates 'it's own form of trinket' in vivid memories. Makes a lot of sense to me. As soon as we get my mood swings leveled out we'll look at letting go of my peculiar 'memory box'.