This is Where I Hold You

I walked into the spa that day in August, with the intent of purchasing a gift certificate for my roommate but leaving with more. You asked where I would be spending my vacation and as the topic of Michigan came up, I felt something wasn’t right. You barely knew me so crying in front of a stranger seemed impossible and yet you did. Would I judge you? Would I find the situation uncomfortable? The words kept bubbling out and between the subject change and tone of voice, I saw it unraveling. You had recently lost your dad and were visiting back home to attend his funeral or wrap up loose ends, the details too difficult to discuss.

As we went through the motions, I wanted to tell you more than I did and I’m sorry if my approach showed uncertainity. As I turned to leave I said, “I’m so sorry about your dad. I lost my mom to cancer a couple years ago. I know how hard it is, especially during the initial part of it all.” And in that sharing of grief, I was unsure. Everyone manages it uniquely and I wasn’t wanting to push too far. You walked out from behind the counter and….you hugged me. In your hurt you gave more, telling me I was a sweetheart and thanking me for stopping in. I felt the depth of your beautiful soul in that instance.

It wasn’t the right time but through all of this I wanted to let you know that it came full circle. You see, I was in the airport when I found out my mom had passed away while on the way to the hospital. I could hardly collect myself to purchase tissues from the airport store, with what felt like puddles of tears forming beneath me as I hurried away from the cashier asking me what was wrong. I didn’t want to talk. Or think. Or breathe. Or feel. The rug had been ripped from underneath me and how dare anyone try to make sense of that. And as I was standing in line to board the plane back home, she came over to me, with an intent so pure that I could only be kind. She asked if I needed a hug and in her simple inquiry as to why I was hurting, I poured out my story. About losing my mom and the cancer.

Did you know that she knew? That Anna Rose read the tears blending into the freckles as someone who needed a crutch, however briefly? For all the onlookers and strangers hurrying by, this one high-school aged girl traveling back to Washington gave me just enough strength for the plane ride home. It was March when I lost my mom and Anna had only lost her 13-year old sister to a car crash that December. She hugged me. She prayed for me and my family during the flight. And she waited for me when we deplaned, just to make sure I was alright. For every loss there is a lifting, someone who was placed in our lives as the tiniest glimmer of light in unending darkness.

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Age, sex, gender, religion – None of that matters when it comes to pain. We share those burdens, those that we wish we’d never been chosen to carry.

This is where I hold you. Where I carry your hurt inside of mine, reminding you that even though it isn’t going anywhere soon, time and kindness will assist in tucking it away. It will be secure and ever-present, the explanations to strangers becoming easier and perhaps, one day, you will walk someone else through a hurt of their own.

 

Potholes & Moving Forward

Awhile back, I took a day trip and went exploring with some friends. We visited northeastern Washington, toured a cave and even popped up to Canada for a bit. It was great to reconnect with this gorgeous state and its surroundings!! While my friend insisted that I write about how much money I save on food, drinks, etc. by being petite, I decided to go with a different route. Shout out to her creative ideas though! And, who knows, it has the potential for a future post. 🙂

As you may have noticed, Exhale Gratitude took a brief hiatus. I wish I could say it was for something really cool but it wasn’t. Mostly just me attempting to find the correct combination for how to do this life thing best. The balance between work, writing and school. I’ll be honest, I was in a bit of a funk there. But, we are back! On that note, I’m still figuring out if Sunday works best for new post release dates and am thinking of switching back to Friday. For now, we’ll just strive for weekly and call it a day.

Driving with me can be an…..interesting experience. I promise to keep you safe but it will be a bit more exciting along the way. Exciting as in I have a tendency to hit nearly every pothole, rock, and whatever else we may encounter. It isn’t done on purpose and while I make an effort to avoid them at times, my driving aligns with my personality for the most part. (And no, that term is not reckless.) 🙂

During the course of our trip (and many other times she drives with me), my friend, Saraa, commented on my lack of avoidance of obstacles within the road. She probably expects it now and can be reassured that no pothole will go unexplored. (Sorry Felix!!! <—–That’s my car.) I slow down and since I drive in Spokane quite often, I now know where most of the potholes are.

I am conscious of where I’m going but also so enthralled by the people I’m with and the situations surrounding me. In celebration of the fullness of this life, I am wanting to drink in each moment I can. This is very much how I live day-to-day, as well as how I set out at accomplishing goals. It might not always look clear and maybe it gets messy at times because of that. Yet, I always end up at my destination, with endless possibilities still before me. And the thing of it is, I don’t wish that I was any different. (I do need to be more careful perhaps in regards to avoiding the potholes situation. Poor Felix.) I charge forward. I keep going, despite the obstacles.

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Reminding myself of this is incredibly important to me, as I am going through some life-changing transitions at the moment. Where plans I originally had are needing to shift and I’m in the exciting, albeit frightening, phase of immense change. Felix and I are not completely broken but sometimes we hit bumps throughout our journey. And while I don’t know the first thing about cars, I know others who do. When the potholes of my life become too much and I need a little work, I reach out. In my faith and personal life, I admit when I am not operating at 100%, whether it’s because I have worn myself down, feel overwhelmed, or am returning to the same old patterns.

 

So yes, I took a longer than a month hiatus and on that note I’m going to be real honest, July sucked a lot. But then, I can’t help but think that this post is launching at precisely the right time. I’ve hit some potholes and man-oh-man do I feel stuck. At first it felt unfair and now, wading the quicksand of disappointment, I am only emerging stronger. The potholes, obstacles, and sucky parts of life will always be there. You can slow down and take them real carefully, but they are unavoidable. It’s gonna get bad and then it’s gonna get real good again. There isn’t some secret sauce so if that’s what you were looking for, no recipe here. People and perseverance are what make the bad parts better. Those potholes sure can sneak up on you so buckle in, bring your peeps, and prepare for the ride.

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The crew

Coffee & Community

My allergies have set in this week, depleting my energy levels and all-around making me feel like garbage. This was not the post I originally intended to write but now and then we have to adjust to that which we’re capable of in that moment. Hoping the fogginess of this congestion will lift soon because I am missing feeling healthy.

I lead a community group through my church. When I saw the lack of the very niche I was seeking (post-college, no kids), I felt compelled to start one. Now, don’t get me wrong, I have never seen myself as much of the leading type. But, when we stretch and spread our wings a bit during our growth process, doors that were once locked now become open. The experiences and situations within my own life were shaping me to step into roles that I had initially never envisioned fulfilling. How beautiful that we are given precisely what we need.

What does this group look like? Our skills, talents and backgrounds are varying but our desire for community is the same. From students, to those in science, hospitality and non-profit work. Twice a month, we gather for coffee and discussion. Though I’ll admit, we didn’t always look this way and have only found our footing in the past month. Our little group was challenged with scheduling conflicts and a brand new leader (Me!) who was still learning the best way to navigate this course. But, I’m thrilled to have found a formula that works for us.

This week, I am feeling grateful for these women and the opportunities that we have to10334253_10152224498548763_6726641651941934601_n learn from one another. That we can challenge each other in our faith, continuing to stretch more and more. It isn’t about the coffee (though delicious!), the equally amazing baked goods or making sure we answer all the questions. It’s the stories we share, the way we become vulnerable in those 90 minutes together, catching each other when necessary. It is the simple fact of devoting our Saturday mornings to this when we could be sleeping. Once upon a time, when I first started this group a couple months back, I thought of giving up. I was incredibly discouraged, leading me to feel stuck and unworthy of leading. I am so glad I listened to those around me and didn’t quit. (Back to that whole reaching out thing again yeah? ——>Yoga Practice & Lessons in Grace)

If there is one thing I have learned in this life at all, it is this: We are led to that which our life story has prepared us for. It might not look how you thought it would and the characters could be completely different than when you first began. I know the uncertainty is frightening and the fear of failure feels heavy. But man oh man when you launch and fly! That makes it all worth it to me. I am blessed by that which I have already received from these incredible women in the short time I’ve known them. I couldn’t help but think that we are roasting our beans of faith and character, preparing to make them into delicious cups to pour into others down the road.

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Cafe Bombon in Spain. Oh how I miss you!