The Voodoo Incident.

I wrote this last April but never published it.  At the time, it had been an insanely frightening and frustrating event.  For sheltered me, raised in small town VA and forbidden to drive downtown as a teen because Roanoke was obviously such a scary place...well, The Voodoo Incident was gigantic.

But that was early last year.  I feel I've experienced a thousand new and unsettling moments since then. I can look back and laugh now. But the point I make at the end of this little story is still just as important today as it was that warm night in April 2014.  I need to hear it in my own journey right now.

I am leaving the writing as is, unpolished. I wrote it in about an hour...the day after...so it is rough. But it's honest.  Here's to still learning lessons everyday.  Enjoy.

The Voodoo Incident

In an attempt to be a good and hip mom, I agreed to take the girls on a late night doughnut run downtown last night, after youth group. Onnie had a newspaper assignment profiling the famous, Portland-come-to-Denver establishment on East Colfax...Voodoo Doughnut. Since our church is on East Broadway, it seemed a ten pm sugar high was appropriate.

The place was busy- I've heard they are always busy. The doughnut selection is fun, diverse and presented in glass spinning towers. The place is funky, cheap, open 24 hours, and very ultra hip...the workers are tattooed and pierced, nice and slightly intimidating. Cash only, and there's an ATM on site to prove the point. I'd be a little afraid to try to pull a debit card out, honestly. “NO DOUGHNUT FOR YOU!”

We drove around a bit, looking for a parking space. East Colfax at night isn't the easiest place to find parking. There was a lovely empty lot almost exactly behind Voodoo...a dentist's office deserted for the night. We passed it once, there was one car in the lot. We slowed a second time, another car was there, and the girls talked me into parking. I didn't see obvious no parking signs and we were honestly only going to be in Voodoo for ten minutes- Onnie will take pics, we will order deliciousness, pay and leave with our sassy pink box.

You know where this is heading, right?

Our experience in Voodoo was fun and silly and I swear we were high off all the sugar fumes. We laughed back down the street, around the corner.

We all saw the lack of our van at the exact same instant.

Onnie didn't believe and ran forward, thinking perhaps that we were deluding ourselves and had parked elsewhere in the lot.

“Mom, our van is gone!”

Of course it was. So were the other cars. I suddenly noticed all the towing signs posted everywhere.

Ever notice how ignorance can morph into clarity quickly when the stakes are high?

Our bewilderment turned to annoyance, anger, despair...and for sweet Ainsley, fear.

I made calls. Found out our ten minute doughnut jaunt was gonna cost us $288.

Not including the doughnuts.

I was angry and felt very incredibly pathetically stupid. Who gets towed anymore these days anyway??

Apparently all the people illegally parked in the lot in front of us, too. We watched it all as we waited to be rescued and taken to our van which was now located in the creepiest and shadiest section in all of Denver- the factory district at Brighton Blvd and I70.

The fact that all those other people were in the exact same predicament as us was little consolation.

Onnie kept mumbling to herself over and over, “We aren't homeless” every time people passed us. Maise realized shorts and a t-shirt don't cover nighttime weather in Denver in April, regardless of the daytime temps.

And Ains? She was freezing and very concerned that gang members were going to kill us. She was shaking and telling us off every three minutes.

Of course, that didn't happen. Ron came to rescue us and we got the van. I've decided having a towing company and trolling parking lots for stupid people's illegally parked cars is a very lucrative business. I'm checking into it...those people make bank.

Is there a point to this story? Sure.

I learned where NOT to park in Denver.

But.

I also learned that life happens and we make it through. Life is now and we can either show up for all of it- the good and bad and bewildering and the crushing and the exhilarating- and feel it completely, knowing we will indeed make it through...or we can opt out completely. There is no in between. The beautiful moments are only guaranteed as much as the terrible.

Sure, we could have avoided the towing last night. But we also would have missed the fun and laughter, and those amazingly good doughnuts. It was about the best doughnut I've ever had.

Here's to our $300 box of Voodoo doughnuts...but not really.

Here's to life. All of it.

Peace.

2015...The heavy.

 
Traditions.

Honestly, I'm not very good with them.  Sure, I'll get all nostalgic, but at the end of the day it just feels like a lot of pressure to me.  Example- the Christmas tree almost always goes up during Thanksgiving weekend.  This year...well, this year has been tough, brutal, awful, miserable...pick a pitiful sounding describer and you get the idea...so the tree suffered.  I'm sure the poor thing, only a year old, felt it was going to languish away the holidays in the crawlspace.

We finally hauled it out three days before Christmas.

But the New Year's blog post?  Considering I haven't publicly posted since last New Year's day, I feel I should probably adhere to this little tradition.  It is a day late...but since "late" has morphed into entirely new meaning this year, please just be thankful it isn't the New Year's post which has pictures of the 2015 Valentine's Day breakfast for my girls.  Sound good?  Let's do this...

2014 was a year which required silence.  I could not publicly post about pain or joy or really anything.  Last year was difficult in ways which have been unmatched in the history of my quiet, little life.  Our family broke apart.  We faced what half the population of the world has endured, a family separated, one whole becoming two halves.  A mom and a dad apart, with three children shuffled back and forth between. I can't and won't speak for Ron, his story is his to tell, same as mine.

For me,  I went a little crazy from the breaking apart.  Or, perhaps more accurately, I cut myself to pieces on all the sharp remains after the breaking.  Years of ugly, unresolved issues become death when released into the open without the grace of hope covering them.  I'm pretty honestly sure I was just a wee bit insane for a couple of weeks...months...there.  Maybe that's all in my head, but maybe that's the point of insanity anyway.  My girls were brave and then they shattered.

But we survived, as always.  I'm starting to think that surviving isn't exactly the best barometer of making it through tough times.  We didn't die...give us a high five.  There are many points in between happiness and death...and survival can mean so many things.  One can survive an event and yet be changed so dramatically that death might have been more gracious than attempting to move forward in the alteration.

So here's a better description- the girls and I got real with each other and had to daily offer tremendous grace and forgiveness, as we put one foot in front of the other.  My Mom has a favorite phrase she uses when the girls are fighting with each other:

       

 "Girls, now don't be ugly with each other."

I honestly never really understood that phrase until this year.  I get now that ugly can describe more than outer appearances.  It can be hate-filled attitudes and cutting words.  Confusion that spills out of our hearts and shoves from our mouths, destroying those we love.  We were ugly in 2014, for sure. Angry, confused, bitter, hopeless, hurting, and full of panic and fear for the future.  All five of us...I will not speak for Ron in anything else, but I will in that, because I know it's truth.  

I had friends come alongside me the past year that quite literally carried me through.  Some were there for a season and some remain.  Here is a public shout out to my closest friends- Melissa, Shannon, Josh, Maria and Margaret- thank you for holding, listening, helping, blessing and being my constant support.  I love you all so very much.  And for my co-workers at Challenge...all of my amazing teachers and staff, who saw my pain and encouraged me this year...Thank you.  We are a family there and I am humbled to be part of it.  

I learned a lot of lot of lessons this past year.  Here are some simple ones that are important when facing a crisis:

1. Get real.  You can't move forward if you can't figure out and say the truth out loud.  The quote at the top is the truest thing I've learned all year.  Stop lying to yourself about the actual circumstances in front of you.  I have serious trouble figuring out truth in situations, especially in the things I tell myself about others and about myself.  I was taught years ago, through heavy emotional manipulation, how to not trust my gut instincts.  I am in slow recovery from this abuse, but it's a process.

2. Acknowledge your part and forgive yourself.  This one is so hard for me...both parts...that I really shouldn't even write it, in integrity.  I tend to take all the blame or none at all. Figure out the truth and then be done with the things that are done. Let go let go let go let go.

3.  Say you are sorry.  Daily, if necessary, and especially if there are children present in this crisis with you. We all say and do things in the stress of a crisis that are hurtful.  Be humble and apologize and watch hearts start to flourish again.

4.  Find people who care about you without agenda and draw them close to you.  Do your best to be there for them as they are there for you.  I have been so blessed in this area.

5.  Flush your pride down the toilet, but keep your self-respect wrapped around you.  They are two very different things.  Respect and build a healthy relationship with yourself. This action will impact all your decisions and relationships positively.

6.  Walk forward in gratitude, every single day.  Do not drown in all the negativity of the crisis. Gratitude keeps us centered and calm.  

I've predicted for the past two years that something big was coming for our family in 2014...and I suppose I was right, in a horrid sort of way.  No speculations this year.  Just hope for healing and peace, and a finding of the joy we searched for all of 2014.  

That's a heavy New Year's post. Thanks for reading.  I wish joy for you this year as well.  Comment below, follow me on here...I promise I will be writing more this year...or shoot me an email.  I'd love to hear from you. 

Peace. 

 

 

Welcome 2014, Bring your new!

Amen.

 This past year was pretty brutal.  As I talked about  here , 2013 was all about survival.  I think my little family did a pretty good job with that.  We learned a lot and we grew.  Painfully, we expanded out of old ideas and comfortable places.  As Onnie told me quite wisely yesterday,

"I am making my New Year's resolutions based on what I learned in 2013.  It was a very tough year, but I learned a lot about myself.  It would be dumb to move forward pretending I don't know important things about myself, or to ignore them."  

Wisdom.  

I am breathing in the new this morning.  There's snow on the ground outside...unexpected after the warm temperatures of the past week.  It's gorgeous and perfect...clean and new for this first day of a fresh starting year.

I wrote on January 9th of last year that I felt 2013 was to be a year of preparation for something big, which was coming for my family in 2014.  I declared 2013 to be The Year of the Wait. I excitedly posted about preparation, naively not remembering that preparation is hard work, and often full of discomfort and stretching and pain.  Last year held us hostage to those experiences, and more than once I honestly didn't think we were going to make it.  But we did.  We came out the other side...today, the fresh start of 2014...stronger.  Closer, to God and each other.  The hardness of 2013 is softened by that truth and comfort.  Yes, it is.

I also declared the song of 2013 to be I will wait, by Mumford and Sons.

Honestly, I am still waiting.  

But I feel ready now.  Last year did prepare me for whatever good this new year is going to hold.  And I know it's going to be good...I declare it to be good.  I am ready for new adventure.  The preparation and growth of 2013 will allow for the good of 2014...I see the processes and I am thankful.  

So

Welcome 2014!

Bring your hope peace joy growth beauty

Good.

Peace, friends.  

Sixteen candles.

Rhiannon Skye celebrated her 16th birthday on October 26th. How can my brown eyed girl be sixteen???  It doesn't so much make me feel old as baffles my mind.  Since my words will never be adequate to describe her beauty grace intelligence faith self-respect talent wisdom...all that she is... here are some snapshots of her during the weeks leading up to her birthday, and her special day.  May they do what my words can't.  Enjoy.

Onnie's make-up creation for Frankenstein at EagleCrest High School
State Drama Winner for Thespian Conference 2013!

Onnie working hard as Opinions Editor for The Eagle Eye,
Eaglecrest High School Newspaper

Onnie, Homecoming Dance 2013

Night before her birthday, rocking out to her favorite song.

Sweet Sixteen
She had a breakfast party of biscuits, bacon, Boo Berry cereal, and Cherry Pie.

Her favorite song, as witnessed in the rocking out picture above...acoustic style.
Anna Sun, by Walk the Moon

I love you, my amazing girl.

Peace.

Saturday morning music...

Snow on the ground and it's freezing outside.  The house is warm and still quiet...the dog and I are the only ones awake.  There's coffee and a leftover toll house chocolate chip cookie next to me.  I've been sick since yesterday morning.  Really sick.  It hit me suddenly and stuck.  But I got some good sleep last night and I'm a little better.

Quiet and coffee and snow.  And a little bit of good music.  Simple contentment.  I hope wherever you are and whatever you might be doing this Saturday morning that you can stop and take a moment to breathe in the beauty around you and still your heart.  If there isn't any beauty to be found around you...if life is misery and bewildering bitterness and lost hope right now...well, I might not know you personally, but I am thinking of you and lifting your heart up to the heavens right now.  Asking for a peaceful moment in the midst of the chaos and pain surrounding you, for strong hands to come help and comfort, and for the Maker of the Stars to hold you.

A song, classic re-made.  Quiet and simple, with what all the best songs have...longing to get to the place we haven't quite reached yet, pushing through our past into an unknown but ached for future.  This longing is inside all of us, yes?

Here is my quiet offering on a Saturday morning.

Peace.

The Audacity of Brokeness.

 "This is my broken heart
this is my bleeding start
this is the way I've come to know you."
-Mat Kearney

Photo by Mathias-Erhart, Creative Commons

I keep somehow thinking if I can just survive this year I will become invincible.  Invincible by Christmas.  That would make a great movie title.  If only only I was a screenwriter.  I'm just me though.  I know what I will be instead by Christmas.  

More broken than today.   More more broken.  It's a refrain which keeps playing sorely in my soul, clashing against simple Autumn joys of pumpkins and peace, resonating with weeping and insomnia and screaming at the heavens in helplessness.  I long for normal, whatever that is.  I think I glimpse it on friends' Facebook postings, hear it laughing outside our windows as strangers pass by crunching barely fallen leaves.  I envy, I long, I ache.  I feel my brokeness sharp against my insides, unrelenting.  

One of our daughters struggles with emotional, mental, developmental problems. I search for a nicer word than problem, but what would that be?  Problem is kind when considering the havoc those words above wreak on my beautiful and brilliant girl's heart, mind, soul.  Life.  She fights bravely to live in normal, trying to understand herself and those around her.  But she lands in broken too.  Her broken doesn't look like mine...where mine is sharp, hers is chiseling and scraping away at her confidence and the hope inside of her.  Hers is utterly terrifying to behold when it engulfs her. 

I study normal.  Its elusiveness is intriguing. I reason though, if I can figure it out, plan and coddle it, and perhaps wrestle it to the ground then we can call it our own.  Our family can have normal too.

Yeah.  

What a lie that is.  Honest truth is our family has broken and I better start studying that one, searching out any beauty that might be had in it.  I observe.

Normal has structure balance preparation.  It is solid for the most part, solid ground which has been carefully planned, cultivated and re-enforced. Broken is the anti-thesis of all that.  It is unruly, wild, unprepared, sudden.  Frightening.  

It is open.  Laid bare.  It literally means having been fractured or damaged and no longer in one piece or in working order.  Yes, all of that is us, our family, our lives.

But. But.

There are things which pop up in the middle of broken which are breath-taking.  Rather, life-giving.  Clear sight of things most important.  Lavishly poured-out grace and fiercely protective love.  Deep and abiding thankfulness that WE STILL ARE, A FAMILY TOGETHER.   Ambulances and hospital stays can still our hearts, rob our joy and sleep and separate us physically...but they can not make us an ARE NOT. We are ours, each other holding and hoping and enduring together, even when apart.  

Last night, as I was staring blindly at my computer screen, numb and exhausted from it all, my husband walked in the room, right up to me.  He took my face in his hands, leaned close, spoke quietly staring straight into my eyes.

"You do such a great job loving and taking care of our girls. I love you."

Grace.  When despair and fears press suffocating and I feel I have done absolutely everything wrong, normal has fled and I beret myself for not being able to capture it and hold it for my family, and exhaustion and confusion are as constant as the sun's rising, when broken is sharp reality...

there's grace and love.  

Those are God's most precious gifts to us.  He brings them to those who are broken, in the brokenness.  The clarity of the important we develop in brokenness allows us to feel and cherish grace and love in ways we never can in peaceful times, in happiness...

in normal.  

Truth- I still long for normal.  Who doesn't?  But.

But.

If broken is to be mine for now, or even for longer than now, then I will be thankful.  Not for it, but for its non-elusive gifts.  If normal does happen to come along at some point in time, I pray I do not hold it too tightly, fearing its possible flying away...or that normal lulls me into thinking and feeling it is best.  Because I have found that grace and love shine brilliant in brokenness. It is enough.   

Peace.   

Start.

I've been doing a lot of private writing lately.  Journaling.  That's not even a recognized word in my desktop dictionary.  It's similar to the new word "pinning"...not meaning what one does when hemming a pair of pants, but the process by which we keep our Pinterest boards full.  Journaling is a much more important word than pinning...it should be a real word, yes? 

I digress.

I've been doing a lot of heart work lately too.  Prying my controlling tendencies out of my clenched fists and learning to forgive.  Learning to forgive myself.  I've read before that if Jesus forgives us and we can't forgive ourselves then we are saying we have a higher God and standard than Jesus- ourselves.  Pretty strong statement- BOOM.

But it just honestly makes me want to say hmm.  (I'm about to break out into 90s hip hop here.)

While I don't necessary disagree with the truth in the hammer blow statement above, it sounds very judgmental to me.  Can we extend the grace necessary to forgive ourselves through the process of judging ourselves about NOT forgiving the way Jesus did?  Messed up.

Forgiveness is strong as steel, yet gentle.  Graceful and glorious.  Freeing.  It is a process.

Here is my start. 

I am posting two songs which are resonating in my heart this morning.  Music speaks to me and moves me...it says things my heart wants to express, with passion and a realness I can't always yet communicate in my writing. As I've stated before Here, I can find grace and redemption in many places, especially in songs which will most likely never ever be played in church.  (I like to think of my little grace-finding song hobby as a constant, small exercise in keeping me legalistic-free...I grew up in legalism and it was a messy, ugly non-grace filled, incorrect view of Jesus which still sometimes tries to wrap its tentacles around my heart.  Legalism always makes me cranky, on-edge and very, very judgy of others.)

The first song is an acoustic version of Florence and the Machine's Shake it Out.  She has such an amazing, soaring voice.  It has some off-color language in it, although not as much as Mumford's famous Little Lion Man.  (For a very cool Christ follower perspective on that song and Mumford and Sons in general, read THIS by a man I seriously admire.)  If you feel the language will offend you, don't listen to the first song. But I love almost every word of it...it is where I am today. 

The second song is by Mumford and Sons...imagine that.  I know, you are wearing your,

"Wow, this is Val's blog and she posted a MUMFORD SONG??"

face, aren't you?  Smile.  It's good stuff.  We build walls of stone...or glass...around our hearts and grace forgiveness gentleness kindness freedom press their noses right up against the walls to tear them down, no matter how bloody and messy.  Thank God, yes?  Yes. 

Be free today, friends. I am starting too.

Peace. 

"I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart."

 Babel, Mumford and Sons

"Cause I'll know my weakness, know my voice
And I'll believe in grace and choice."