Stepping In

It’s been forever and a day since I last checked in (when I logged into this account it said two years and one day, to be exact). I’ve been preparing the girls to someday take flight, which has consumed minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and, apparently, years. It’s a process that is full of perspective and breathing and growing.  I’ll share more about the chickadees and their process in the future, but these next few posts will focus on different topics entirely.

To be honest, I’ve found it difficult to be in an online space without friend requests and boundaries. It’s vulnerable and open and real. I’ve been all of these things, but on a much smaller scale and with a limited audience, so please bear with me as I take baby-steps back here.

I am honored to be part of the Choose Joy launch team.  I am.  But honestly? This is hard. Glennon says all the time “we can do hard things”. I hard core adopted that mantra as I geared up to read. The hard is in no way based upon the writing or the promotion or any of it. It’s the topic, which just happens to be my dead friend. The one who made plans with me for the “highlight of our twilight” and had a wicked sense of snark and uncontrollable curly frizz. The one who didn’t make it to forty.  Yep. Her. Our Sara (I'm linking to a post YOU MUST IMMEDIATELY GO READ where she discusses her snark along with her philosophy of it being "all good" and also uses the term "freaking kidding me" which was ALL HER). The game she discusses? The one she played with Mama Jane in the waiting rooms at Mayo? We often play it in airports. So. Many. People. In. Airports. Yes, the girls and I share Sara's snark. As I review and share the book I'm going to guide you back to her blog. It was many of the best parts of her, the ones she put out for everyone to see, but it was honest and raw and real. She was real. Rereading the post I linked made me laugh and cry at the same time. True definition of sappy that she and NieNie discussed often. So, dear ones, we can do hard things. I proved it. I picked up the darn book and read it in a single sitting.


The book arrived for me to review and it sat under my Christmas tree for three weeks.  Three. Weeks.  Side note: A friend, Alece, refers to this, 2016, as her year of “badassery”. It’s not my word, but for all intents and purposes, I’m borrowing it here.  I’m reaching deep down into that word to rejoin this online community and review a book that was difficult for me to read. Laura Pederson and Mary Carver spent countless hours launching (Laura) and writing (Mary) Choose Joy. It took me that much time to gather the strength to read it. I'll be sharing parts of it here in the coming days. Welcome back, friends, I'm harnessing strength and rejoining this crazy wonderful word world.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Loving Well

It's as much a part of me as breathing, this friendship she and I have woven together.  In and out, up and down, encircling us. Never ceasing. Never slowing. None of the breaks, skips, or hiccups that usually occur in relationships. Not a one. We came together so seamlessly I don't  remember what my life, my days, my moments felt like without her beside me, even in a figurative sense. I know it sounds odd, the stuff of science fiction movies and creepy music, but our relationship has been like that from the beginning. I wake up when something happens to her or when she dreams and cannot bring herself out of it. She knows when I've hit my bottom and swoops in to scoop me up.   Even our night times overlap. That silly red sports car she drives in the non-waking hours? It shows up for both of us. I tell her geniuses choose green and she laughs. I am thankful to hear it so strong, so clear. Her laughter is the mix of all things beautiful; soft undertone...
Read more

The Power of Words

Before Sara died, she asked me to speak at her wake. She didn't desire that I share with others memories  of  her. Rather, she asked that I speak about who she was in this world. She told me that she wanted people who came  to see her  as I spoke.  She also told me I wasn't allowed to cry. It would, she stated, "Make things less effective."  Love her.   A friend who was present asked that I  ( Shannon )  put it up for all of you, who were unable to join us at the service, to read. .  .  .  .  .  .  . Gail Caldwell wrote:  "It's an old, old story. I had a friend and we shared everything, and then she died and so we shared that too."   Words are powerful. Uniting. They shape our view of the world, ourselves, each other. Words, in the best cases, make us immortal. Words are how I found her. Faith is what brought us together. A friend send me an email, asking me to pray for a mother wh...
Read more

Lonely Eyes

Today I took the time to gently lift her into my arms and sway around the kitchen.  Laying aside all of the I have to's   and instead looking her in the eyes and noticing the lonely. Wondering if my eyes look the same I stopped cleaning up dinner and unloading the dishwasher and pulling out the vitamin regiment for the 'morrow. I started listening to the quiet of her heart.  The place that was calling out for more of me in the regular moments. Scrolling through the music on the phone, I found her song. The one I've sang to her since her NICU days. Choosing it carefully, pushing play, watching the wonder in her eyes. She  did not realize it was on our devices. Wonder replacing lonely My little is still small enough to fit on my hip, even at seven. I tell her it's God's gift to me, being able to tote her when she gets tired or hurt or just plain lonely . Growing up isn't easy. Neither is being grown up. Knowing this, I hold her tighter and we glide aroun...
Read more