Fixed

Tonight I had a sudden, impromptu chance to visit a dear friend that I hadn't seen since her wedding nearly five years ago. I found her on facebook a few weeks ago (oh, technology) and was excited to finally have the chance to see her again. It had been too long.

We worked together when I was still in high school, and she was a little over my age now. Those were fun, carefree days that include more laughs, pranks, and strange occurrences than I can ever remember. My memories of her are very fond, and she is someone that has stayed on my mind through the years we haven't spoken.

She is special to me not only because of the fun times we shared, but because of the trip we took to hell and back together. The trip during which she held me, and held me down. She sat next to me (or under me, depending on how hard the day) while my mother lay in the hospital dying. She knew my heart, and she was the only one I would let hold me when I would finally let go and cry. She loved my mom, and she loved me, and that love has always stayed with me. Even through five years. Five long, hard years.

So when I saw her tonight, it was hard to know where to begin. Hard to know which stories to tell, hard to know which events were significant enough to share. Hard to remember what happened when, hard to describe how things felt when they happened. Hard to know when it went wrong, hard to pretend like it's always stayed good. Hard. Just hard.

As I thought about this tonight on my way home, I realized that maybe this is something that more people than just me struggle with. Wondering when it all went wrong. Wondering when good went bad, and when darkness fell. Wondering at what point I became no longer whole, but damaged instead.

I've been trying hard to fix myself lately. Doctors, medicines, changes in attitude and thinking; whatever it takes to fix me. A good friend recently told me that I didn't need to fix myself, because I wasn't broken. She said that I was simply learning and discovering and growing, and I just don't know how much of that makes sense to me right now. I know I'm not broken, But I'm damaged.

So when I wonder where it went wrong, when I could actually look back and see that everything in my life had gone wrong, I wonder how I can reverse it. How I can "fix" it. And that part...I know deep down that that part isn't broken either. It's dark, and it's hard, but maybe it is just damaged, too. Just like me. Maybe life is just a beautiful disaster, and maybe I wouldn't change a thing. Maybe it's made me who I am. Maybe it's helped God to change the heart He has given me. Maybe it's opened my eyes.

Maybe a lot has gone wrong, and maybe it seems like nothing is right, but maybe, just maybe I've done the best that I can. And maybe that is enough.

Still Holding On...

I paced back and forth through the room, angry and broken and screaming. Every few minutes I would stop and fall on my knees, and cry out and plead. I couldn’t make sense of it. I couldn’t bear the thought of it. So I know that you couldn’t, either. My heart is intertwined with yours, and yours with mine, and it has been that way for a while now. You worry about me, and I used to tell you not to, but I don’t do that anymore. Because I worry about you, and if you didn’t let me I would get mad. So when your life is falling apart in front of our eyes, my heart breaks with yours. That’s just how I work.

I’m falling apart/Barely breathing/With a broken heart/That’s still beating

It was halfway through my day of tears and loss of hope that something occurred to me that should have occurred to me weeks ago. There was no way you were going to take this step alone. I was so afraid that you wouldn’t let me be there with you, that you would be your independent self, but when I told you that I took the day off to be there, you didn’t argue with me. That surprised me. I don’t know if the idea of me being next to you that day was more for you or for me, but it doesn’t matter. I’m just so glad you let me be there.

I knew I looked like hell when I came to ask you if you were sure. I know I probably looked like hell that morning, too. Coffee in hand, here comes the test of true faith. We threw things in boxes, we joked and we tried to do anything we could to keep from breaking down. And when you walked into his room, into the room where you have laughed and cried and rocked and read and been filled with more emotion than any heart other than a mother’s can hold, and you started looking for what you needed to take, I knew that it was over. I had to look away from you because the pain written all over you was so blinding that it hurt my eyes. I was strong enough through that one to let you break, and kiss you on the cheek when you were done. It was going to be okay.

I’ve known for a long time that you wouldn’t be able to walk out the front door without completely losing it. That’s what I saw in my mind when I knew I needed to take the day off. And you did. You lost it. And we walked out the door, and we walked to our cars, and I had to turn around. I had to face the other way. Because I broke for you, and I didn’t want you to see. I got in line behind the moving truck, and you led. And we drove. And we cried, and we drove.

“Do not be afraid and do not be dismayed at this great horde, for the battle is not yours but God’s. You will not need to fight in this battle. Stand firm, hold your position, and see the salvation of the LORD on your behalf, O Judah and Jerusalem. Do not be afraid and do not be dismayed.”

When we got there, you were excited to show me the house. You asked me over and over if the house was ok. It’s perfect, for what it is. When everything was moved in, when it was over and done with, that’s when I needed you to let me hold you. And you did. Just for a moment. And we sat, and we cried and we questioned, and all I could think of was redemption. It’s just within your reach. And my love for you seemed to grow by the hour.

If I lay here/If I just lay here/Would you lie with me and just forget the world

The conversations we had at lunch were conversations that God put in place before either one of us were created. He wants you to know how loved you are. He wants you to know how much you’re worth, and how you deserve much greater things than you could ever even imagine. He wants you to know that the mistakes, the heartache, the regrets, and the guilt are not things that His children are supposed to have. He wants you to put them on Him, instead. He’s holding you. Stop fighting his embrace.

Getting in my car and leaving you there was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I knew I needed to go, but the very idea of the pain that was coming to you was not one that I could tolerate. I told you that God would break your heart open, and as you are finding out, it is some of the worst pain that you will ever feel. But it’s necessary. And so difficult to watch from the outside.

The good news? It will end. You will be ok. It will not be dark forever. The bad news? You have to stare straight into the face of God to get there. And deep down in my heart, I know you eventually will. You just have to do it on your own, and it has to be your decision. And for me, that is the hardest thing in the world. I want you to have everything, but I am not the One that can give it to you.

So I stand by, and I wait. And I am not patient, but I wait. And I pray, and I cry. I cry for you, and I cry with you. I cry because I’ve tasted freedom, and I can’t share it with you. I cry because I can see how close you are, and I so badly want to run to you and push you off the edge. But you have to jump on your own.

Just so the world can watch you fly…