June 24, 2011 The day listening ended.

The above day is the day my dad left this world and went to heaven to spend the rest of eternity singing Jesus' praises. 3 years ago.

There has been no other loss of a person that has affected me (and many others) so deeply.  What has been significant about this last year is I that my grieving process has left me feeling alone, with no one to listen to me.

Now, before you run to my side, let me clarify something. My dad was my listener. He listened to me when I needed someone to talk over stuff. What kind of stuff? Life stuff. Like raising kids, dealing with ex-husband, changing jobs, going back to school, life changes.  In fact, he's the reason I volunteered to be a camp counselor for my church's high school summer camp to Hume Lake. He's the reason I volunteered to be a chaperone for the high school missions trip. He's the reason I went back to school.  Ok, he's not the reason for all these choices, but when I talked to him about these ideas, he listened. He didn't decide for me, in fact, he would usually say, "Well, if God wants you to do it, you need to be open to it and let God work it out." Usually when I talked to him, I would come up with my own solution. The conversation would be me saying "this is what's going on" and "this is what I'm gonna do," and "what do you think?" He would just listen.

Is this what you would call a "Sounding board?" Yeah, dad was that for me. And I've really needed him this year. My life is going through so many changes with school, work, grown up children, moving and growing up myself! He is not here to listen to me. For some reason, listening and watching others grieve became extremely difficult for me to endure. So much so that at some point over a year ago, I isolated myself in a few areas of my life.

In the last 3 years, someone, anyone will come up to me and tell me how much they miss my dad. Because I inherited my dad's sense of responsibility and caring, I automatically wanted to help and comfort those who miss my dad too. But for a long time I just couldn't. In fact, it caused me pain to hear it. So much so that I couldn't even go to church on a regular basis. I know it seems crazy, but because I lost my listener, my comfort, I couldn't comfort those who felt the loss of my dad. I couldn't listen. To be honest, at this point, I'm not sure I'm ready to listen.  Thankfully, I'm just like my dad and I know I need to just get up and get going. Life goes on. My life must go on. And my friends and family who are grieving as well, I need to be a part of them. I know I'm not responsible for their comfort, but we can comfort together.

And I need to listen. Because I am my father's daughter. And I know that with God's strength and comfort, I can come out of my isolation and serve God in the way I'm supposed to.

What's been helping me through this past year? A few people. One of them is my long time childhood best friend, Olga. She lives next door and we've known each other for 38 years. She's the one friend who knows me better than anyone. And she knows what I'm missing.  She's listened. A lot. We've listened to each other as we watch our children become grown ups. She's a comfort because she knows me so well, even when she doesn't know what to say, I know she still cares for me.

The others are my kids. I've had several opportunities this year to have my own little family together and that blesses me more than anything. My kids are all grown and I watch them as they go through their adult lives and just sit back and wait for them to come to me with their joys and troubles. So I can listen to them. What is significant about this is that they all listen to me when I need to share my joys and troubles.  As grown ups, they are all willing to let me talk about my stuff and they just listen. Of course, sometimes the advice they give is...well...not advice I would use, but the point is they listen.

There is one more thing that helps. And I just realized this a few days ago: Talking and sharing with others who will listen. This is what happened: I'm volunteering at Vacation Bible School at church this week. I was chatting with a boy and I mentioned my dad. Another lady standing next to us mentioned meeting my dad a few years ago, on her first Sunday visiting our church. I carried on the conversation with them as I shared a few memories of my dad. We were all in smiles and I realized I enjoyed the conversation. It warmed my heart. I talked and they listened.

I miss my dad. Grieving is not easy. And I share my grieving process in the hopes that it helps someone else, like my readers, and gives comfort in the understanding of what grieving is like. It's been 3 years, but like I said, when you lose someone very significant, it makes a huge impact on you, and everyone else.

Then  you find stuff that helps. Like talking. And sharing. And allowing others the opportunity to listen.

And becoming the listener.

#Running

I hate running. Always have. When I was a kid and dad thought I needed to get more exercise, he'd make me run around the block with him. And I hated it.  In high school P.E. class, we were required to run the track for physical education testing. I failed the test cuz I walked. CUZ I HATE RUNNING!!!!!

(By the way, I know 'cuz' isn't proper English, but it's my thing. I write it all the time, except when I'm writing papers for school.)

If you don't already know, I started running about 2 months ago. Why?

Cuz I hate it, that's why!

It's true! That's the reason!

It's just that I feel like running is something I need to conquer. And I've been making life changes--living healthier, eating healthier, exercising, losing weight--and I needed an exercise regimen that would keep the weight loss going-30 more pounds and I will officially be a healthy weight! So, I met with an athletic trainer and am learning how to run. I've only lost 1/2 pound in the last 2 months, but my clothes are fitting better, my joints don't hurt as much and my body feels better! Hey-I can squat and pick something up off the floor, and it doesn't hurt to get back up! I think this is awesome!

The run is always tough for me, though. Walk a bit...then run...then walk...run...my legs are killing me...I can't breath...run... Then I finish and...Wow! I feel so good! Like I'm conquering the cement, or treadmill. Heck, I feel like I can conquer the world! I went on a run today and actually looked forward to it. I know-so weird, huh?

This is what I've learned about running: It's not for everyone. It's painful. It feels wonderful. The last few weeks, I have found myself thinking "I need to go on a run." But it's not easy. There are times when I don't think I'll make it, or my legs hurt so much a few hours later, I swear I'll never do it again. But I must.

What a metaphor for life, huh? Running is a pain, and I know I will struggle to increase my time, work through losing weight, and regulate my breathing (that's the toughest part for me), but in the end, this running is good for me and I feel fantastic about making it through! Running is changing me and that change is hard, but it's good for me.

Life is hard. Life is painful. But life is also good. Thank God that He is there to help me through the pain, so I can experience the good.

So, what's the end goal of all this running? Well, I'm running my first 5k in October, and I'll run a 10k in January. Will I keep up the running after that? Stay tuned...

The art of humiliation

I'm a show-off. I know I am. And if I get the opportunity to strut my stuff, I usually will. However, I am learning that being a show-off is really not that great. In fact, if I'm not careful, I can become a know-it-all, self-righteous, you-know-what (no foul language allowed).

Last week, I had the opportunity to really show-off.  I saw my ex-husband for the first time in 13 years.  I even posted the life-moment on Facebook and received some great comments of encouragement, reminding me that I have a lot to be proud of and I should just "strut my stuff" right in front of him. And I was planning on it too! I was going to show him what this "hot grandma" was made out of and really put him in his place. Of course I wasn't going to blatantly humiliate him, but in a subtle way...

...until I saw his face. Our lifetime together flashed in a very fast moment and when I looked at him, I was humbled and just couldn't do more than be friendly. What changed? I just didn't see the point in being cocky. I wanted to show him up, but in an instant I knew that what that cockiness would say about me would just be horrible. And I just didn't want to be that person. So, if you've been wondering how the afternoon went, I'll tell you.

It was fine. We said hello, chatted about the weather and how beautiful our daughter is. That's it. No humiliation whatsoever.

Now I'm going to get on my soap box and complain to you about an incident I recently experience. Someone came to me in the guise of "Christian conviction" and expressed concern about an innocent activity of mine. I thanked this person for the concern and then expressed my reassurance that I use care and concern and cautious discernment in said activity.

Now, if you don't already know, then read some of my blog entries, and you'll know how seriously I take my faith and my Christianity. I have learned the hard way that my best witness to all of my friends and family who share (or don't share) my faith is to seek God's wisdom in all I do and say (well, I try to, but I falter). I chose my words carefully with the above person.

Well, the person didn't stop. In fact, the following words were used to further express the point: "not being judgmental, but..." Don't get me wrong. I think this person's heart may have been in the right place, but the conversation just kept going in a direction that when this person finally had the last word, judgement and self-righteousness permeated completely. After one last public, cocky comment, I was humiliated. And I'm still angry about it.

Which is why I'm writing about the subject of humiliation. This is my blog. And I'm learning to accept that I'm a good writer, and this is a good outlet for me. Part of me feels that I'm vindicated if I express my feelings about this incident here. After all, I could simply go to the above person to clear things up, but no...I'm showing off and writing about it on my blog. For that, I ask your forgiveness, especially if you think that I'm not handling this too well.

But humiliation? It's a horrible thing. Even when it's subtle, humiliation is about showing off and making one's self bigger than someone else's self. You know what? In the end... no one wins.

And now I'll get off my soap box. For now.