On the good and the bad
A good friend of mine called last week to catch up.
After sharing a few excited I missed yous and It’s so good to hear your voices, she took a deep breath, and gently asked, Now, really, how are you?
My answer?
I am amazing and awful, all at the same time.
If you read my writing at Not The Former Things back in the beginning, I wrote a lot about the paradox of it all.
The good and the bad.
The joy and the pain.
The beautiful and the messy.
Back then, my life was a haze of all of it as I struggled to figure out how to best help my children, how to navigate doctors and hospitals, how to be a good wife to my husband, how to teach my child to read, how to get enough sleep – the list went on and on.
This all happened in the midst of the everyday. The joy of birthday parties, beautiful hikes, family visits, and playdates was intrinsically woven into the pain of meltdowns, hospital IV’s, and betrayals in my marriage.
Life was excruciating then. But it was also so very precious.
The worse things got, the more I was able to see and appreciate how wonderful the good parts were. I was able to savor them, like a glass of really good wine. I knew it would end, but I wanted to experience every single drop.
I look back on my journals and my blog posts from then and see how simple it all was, despite the complexity. My words are a record of my wrestling with the paradox.
How can life be this precious and this appalling, all at the same time?
So, when my friend took a deep breath, and gently asked, “Now, really, how are you?” it wasn’t difficult to answer.
I am amazing and awful, all at the same time.
It’s both.
Amazing because I still want to pinch myself that my son and I were able to move into a beautiful new townhome, for less money than the apartments down the street.
This beautiful home, with natural light, wood floors, and a spa like bathtub fell into my lap for substantially less rent than the tiny, dark apartment with crappy carpet I was preparing myself to move into just a week prior.
My home has been a constant, daily reminder of the very, very good in my life.
Incidentally, this same friend, upon seeing my new place and hearing the story about the rent said, “Your house makes me believe there must be a God.”
Me too.
Amazing, right?
Awful because I can’t sleep at night, tossing and turning, remembering hurtful things that I buried throughout my marriage, stressed about the upcoming medical bills, worried about my children and the reality that if something happens to me, they will be adrift medically, financially, and emotionally.
Amazing because every single client I work for has given me so much grace, offered me more hours, recommended me to others and, ultimately, kept me and my family afloat doing work that I absolutely love.
Awful because every email and subsequent bill from my lawyer is a reminder that my husband doesn’t want us and is actively working to ensure that he is not required to support us in any way.
Amazing because the longer the legal battle goes on, the more I find myself becoming self-sufficient and able to do it all without him anyway.
Awful because my heart is broken.
Amazing because my closest friends are helping it mend.
It’s all of it, all at the same time.
Life is motion, change, stagnation, bloom: nothing ever seems to happen, or awful stuff happens, or beautiful stuff happens, and we say, Amen.
Anne Lamott
What I have learned these past two years (five years? ten years? my lifetime?) is that the list of amazing is always, always, always there, if I am willing to look hard enough. I think this is how we survive.
The smile of a child, playing in a filthy, dangerous warzone.
The hummingbird whizzing past my son’s head as we walk into the immunologist’s office.
The story online about the biker gang escorting victims of child abuse to court, to help them feel safe.
The phone call in the morning with my good friend, when I am struggling to face a new day.
The food pantry down the street with a sign that reads “We don’t ask questions. No paperwork, just food and love.”
The beautiful and the ugly.
The good and the bad.
The amazing and the awful.
I believe this is the nature of this side of heaven. I don’t presume to know why, but I am sure that it is an essential part of our existence.
As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing everything.
2 Corinthians 6:10
I planted my patio garden earlier this summer.
I wanted wild vines and flowers everywhere – beauty and life, after the ugly death of my marriage.
A few of the plants didn’t fare well in the transition from Home Depot to my small plot of dirt. They seemingly gave up and died upon realizing their fate (hard desert soil and a caretaker who doesn’t water as much as she should – I can hardly blame them).
This morning, I went outside to water and noticed one of them coming back, green and showing signs of life. I touched the fragile leaves and smiled.
In nature, the cycle is always beauty, then death, then rebirth.
I think the same is true in our lives.
Death, Resurrection, Life.
All of it, over and over again.
Awful, Amazing, Amen.
Prayer
If you would like prayer, please feel free to email me at [email protected] and I will happily pray for you this week.
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