Eleven Pages...

I keep re-staring this post.  I opened up a word document this afternoon, and much of what is written there are words I will never post here.  How ironic that many of them are words I'd hoped to post.  But some things are best left unsaid...

I was going to say the past months have been a roller coaster ride.  But coming from a coaster enthusiast, that seemed terribly inadequate.  Roller coasters are fun.  This has not been much fun.

I want to be clear here that we have not been going through anything tragic like disease... or physical injury... or death.  I have several friends who are dealing with the really big stuff, right now, and it makes me a little hesitant to post about my own struggles, because I know they are of a completely different caliber and incomparable.  But it occurred to me, the other day, that I have been working through the same stages of grief that a person might experience in a more serious situation. 

Denial... Anger...  Bargaining... Depression... Acceptance...

As I started to ponder this, it almost made things worse.  Truthfully, I think I did a blitz through all five stages in about fifteen minutes one day a few weeks ago.  Something about that cannot possibly be healthy...

Last week I found myself at "Ministers and Mates" retreat... and let me just say that I think the name is ingenious, because it necessitated serving "M & Ms" on a regular basis, and, realistically, anyone who will provide me with "M & Ms" is pretty close to "friend for life" status in my book...  but I digress...

I can't get into all the details, but shortly after dinner there was a moment that threatened to set off every fragile emotion I have, and the only thing I could think was, "I am hanging by a thread".  I was not "hanging by a thread" several months ago.  Even in the midst of a crazy life with unbelievable twists and turns of events, I was really doing alright.  I was more than alright!  I was excited about where I honestly believed God was leading!  Things were good.  And I find myself really frustrated with myself, because apparently if you throw a couple of unexpected things at me I am still really capable of falling apart... I have done this recently on multiple occasions...  in public...  I hate that!

Even as I sit here tonight, I'm trying to decide if I'm still struggling or if acceptance is finally washing over me.  I know that I'm at a place where I must choose acceptance, because there's closure.  There's no going back (unless I really want to go all the way back to denial... and I don't).  The possibilities no longer exist.  The doors are shut.

But not every door is shut.  We're still here.  And so a thought has been formulating... percolating... working its way into the deepest part of my being over the past few days.  If the doors keep closing, maybe it's because we're supposed to be here?  Maybe it's because we're supposed to be doing what we're doing?  Maybe?  How novel...

L.

P.S.  One more note about retreat.  Awkward social situations where I know next to no one don't rank up there in my top 10.  As an introvert, I would almost rather die than have lunch with people I don't know.  However, my "lunch bunch" actually turned out to be a highlight of the week for me, and just in case any of you are reading this, I was wrong about the chocolate...  It is only good if you happen to have a supply of sulfuric acid.  Then you can mix it together to create a gummy substance that can fix stuff (thanks a lot, MacGyver).  I am still planning to take the compass and the extra clothes and walk the 20 miles in the snow if we are ever stranded together in Northern Canada after a plane crash...

P.P.S.  I hate clichés.  The first person to suggest that God is opening a window should consider the way I broke in to my dorm room at Olivet during Celebrate Life that one year.  It didn't end well.  I try to avoid climbing through windows now.