Friday, September 30

I'm still here

The trip from Memphis to Orange County was one I'd been dreading, but I'm still in one piece and not feeling like a deranged person (which is a miracle considering I got up at 3:30 this morning). My heart hurts because the home I have loved since birth is no longer ours. I had my first baths in the kitchen sink. Literally every memory I have involves that house in some way. And although I never actually lived there, it feels like home to me. At the same time, I know this needs to happen. My family needs closure and stability, two things that have been missing since my grandma was diagnosed in July 2003. My mom needs to live her life and make her own dreams. It's time to let go. On September 10, my grandma would have celebrated her 78th birthday. I spent the day working at an event that ran much longer than we originally expected. As a result, I was given a day off. That day is today. It's funny how life works, isn't it? In closing, I wanted to share a poem by Annie J. Flint that the pastor of our new church included in today's daily email. It seemed very appropriate somehow. God hath not promised skies always blue Flower strewn pathways, all our lives through; God hath not promised sun without rain, Joy without sorrow, peace without pain. But God hath promised strength for the day, Rest for the labour, light for the way, Grace for the trials, help from above, Unfailing kindness, undying love. - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Los Angeles, California

Friday, September 16


Sorry it's been so quiet around here these past few weeks. A lot has been going on in my world, and I just haven't felt the desire to sit down and write about it. Now that September is half over (!), I figured it might be a good time to step forward and say hello. In two weeks, I'll be flying to California to help my mom pack the remaining pieces of my grandma's home into boxes, and we'll watch as 35 years worth of memories are loaded on a truck for Mississippi. Then on Monday, we'll turn the keys over to the new owners, and we'll fly back to Memphis. I've been struggling with this because in many ways, this home is my last link to childhood. I have thousands of memories there, both good and bad, and a huge part of me doesn't want to let that go. At the same time, I realize that it's time. This is a good thing. But it still hurts. A lot. Jonathan and I have dreamt up a wonderful anniversary trip to give us something to look forward to in the coming months, as we deal with one emotional roller coaster after another. Let me put it this way -- the house is only the tip of the iceberg. We have a lot going on in our world right now. I'm not sure if planning a trip is the best way to deal with life, but it's my solution. Let's hope it's a decent one.