Seam Ripper or Sledgehammer?

The summer has not gone exactly as I planned. I’m guessing that I’m not the only one who could say that.

I started REALLY strong. June was filled with deep cleaning, vacationing, and helping my mother-in-law, Barb, sort through her belongings. July looked about the same, minus the vacation. It was August where I got sidetracked. Though I continued to drive over to Austin to help Barb, that basement of mine never got cleaned: additionally, the living room walls still mock me with their carefully stenciled artwork I SO VERY MUCH want to cover up with a new coat of paint. I have no idea when – or if – I will get to them. Maybe next summer?

 

Beautiful stenciling, done by someone else. I'm tired of it.

I wanted this to be a summer of surrender. I set goals in order to see that happen. In June, I publicly declared my gratitude for the many blessings that came my way. That was my goal and I knocked it out of the park. Success!! In July, my goal was to “write expressions of surrender each day (with a spirit of gratitude).” I didn’t do it. It was way too much! I did relent and give Jesus so many of the unhealthy attitudes that I have stubbornly clung to this past year, but it was a daily struggle rather than a daily surrender.  In August, my goal was to write prayers for guidance in choices each day (with a spirit of gratitude). I didn’t do it. I barely wrote a thing.  I did pray – a lot – on those solo trips back and forth to Austin, and many other times as well. My prayers were filled with gratitude, as I felt God healing me and restoring me to a proper, healthy perspective.

My underlying goal for the whole summer was to, as I put it in my earlier blog, “Cherish. Each. Day.” Of course I didn’t do that! There were days along the way that I just trudged through, missing out on the joy of cherishing even the “junk” thrown my way. When all was said and done, though, I did sincerely cherish many days, and the summer has been the summer I needed. I feel rested and restored. I almost feel like myself again, after a year of feeling tossed back and forth by the waves of things beyond my control.

Do I feel in control again? Oh heavens no – and even if I did feel in control, that feeling would be deceptive. Letting go of the need to feel in control has been part of my summer, and I believe I will need to continue working on that one.

Right smack in the middle of the summer fell the anniversary of Les’s suicide. I had decided to spend that day over in Austin with Barb, and we did what we could to put some joy in a day filled with dark memories. It was a hard day, but we made it through.  On that day, both on my way to Austin and on the way home, I heard a song on the radio. I hadn’t heard that song before but its message was clearly one I needed to hear. (I kind of guessed that, being that I heard it twice in one day.) The message of the song has been working its way into me, and I am finding more and more purpose in all the pain of this past year. The song is called “The Unmaking” (by Nicole Nordman) . Let me share some of the lyrics with you.

“What happens now
When all I’ve made is torn down
What happens next
When all of You, is all that’s left

This is the unmaking
The beauty in the breaking
Had to lose myself
To find out who You are
Before each beginning
There must be an ending
Sitting in the rubble
I can see the stars
This is the unmaking”

I have found that sometimes the unmaking of me is slight. It’s like that little bit of a seam that I sewed too far, so I need a seam ripper to take care of it. It cuts a little. It’s painful, but not terrible, and I get back on track quickly. However, sometimes the unmaking requires a sledgehammer. Everything has to come down, and I need to start over. Whether it’s a seam ripper or a sledgehammer, progress can’t begin until the unmaking is complete.

This year has been the unmaking of me. The pain and heartbreak have been intense. The changes have been difficult to manage. The heart and hand of God have been unmistakable.

So, here I am at the end of the summer. “Sitting in the rubble, I can see the stars.” I don’t know what will come next, but I like the view from here.

God, use me. Build me up the way You want me. Let me lean on Your wisdom and not my own.  Help me listen to Your still small voice and rebuild my life as You would have me rebuild. Amen.