who i am when i am real

Tuesday, August 26, 2008  
August 26, 2008 

For the last two nights I've been woken up by the same annoying noise….apparently the building across from mine thinks it's super appropriate to sound the fire alarm from 11:30 till about 2 ish just for kicks. BUT AHA! Lucky for them, I was already awake and went out on my porch to investigate this crazy sound coming from afar. I went and sat on my back porch and watched as angry tenants filed out from their condos. I could hear some kids crying and parents talking and I felt bad for the poor people. It reminded me of my first year in college – literally the first week I was there, the fire alarm went off every night for 4 days. We were PSYCHED.

I made my way back inside while the alarm and the strobes still were going off and sat there on my couch for awhile. Sleep was far from me again tonight and it amazed me that while I sat there I wasn't even remotely tired. I tried everything I could to get tired –all to no avail. So I retreated back to tossing and turning. All too soon, my alarm went off and I definitely wasn't ready for it. I closed my eyes….just ten more minutes. Somehow I rolled my sorry tail right outta bed and still made it to work on time, and looking presentable to boot.

And of course it would be a slow day! Other than attempting to put some TCA on a tatt I'm trying to fade out (which was an adventure in itself), I haven't done much but write and think and think and write, file, file, file, print, copy, walk around the airport some, and add some contacts into my boss' outlook. Busy day…LOTS.

I never thought I'd be a 9-5 type of girl, and here I sit. I want to be travelling and seeing different places and different people…how that equates into my future, I'm not really sure, but it's in my heart. I had different dreams back when I was in high school – I wanted to teach creative writing to high school students. I went to college for a semester and was majoring in English – then life, as I remembered, shattered. I completed my first semester at school and felt as though I did a really good job – the school was pretty tough – and I kept right up with everyone else. Then, a string of events changed everything for me – literally. For the next 7 months, 9 people passed away; friends and family. There was a time where 3 passed in three weeks – one each week, 2 in 2 weeks, and it literally felt like every time I turned around I was at the funeral home or at a funeral. 

I remember breaking down one Sunday at church after about the 6th month of loss. I walked through the doors and had a call on my cell phone from home. I went around the corner to make the call and found out that a teacher at my junior high had passed away. I had become so numb at this point that I just sort of blindly hung up the phone and went right back to the service. God decided to break me – I had put my tears and my pain aside so that I could be there for the kids who had lost classmates and for my family who lost family members… I felt like such a zombie that day. I was just going through the motions when this overwhelming pain came over me. I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror and saw the ghost of someone I used to know. My eyes were full of pain, I had dark circles, I hadn't eaten right in weeks, and I looked like someone had taken me out to the yard to fight. And in a way, that was the truth. I just didn't have on the correct armor and I didn't understand why it was happening. As I stood there in the bathroom – I felt like my heart was shattering into a million pieces. I'm sure other people have experienced this at some time in their life – grief so heavy that when you cry, it literally comes from your toes. I was crying so hard, that I couldn't even take a breath, and no noise was being made. I remember sinking to the floor, a pile of hurt and wonder. I remember hands being laid on me and prayers being lifted and I think I stayed in there for awhile. I remember my lil sis coming in and wrapping her arms around me- in a weird twist of roles. I finally found the strength to stand, went back to the service, and was renewed in my spirit. I remember spending the rest of that day with the kids from youth, taking them around town to deliver pizzas, singing loud in the car, and laughing. All the while, in the back of my head and heart, I hurt. I didn't understand. I didn't get it, and I didn't want to go through it anymore. I quit school. I was angry. I was broken. I was bleeding inside and didn't have any idea how to stop it. I yelled at God, I screamed in agony most nights because I was too afraid to sleep, too afraid of the dark, too afraid of the haunting memories, too afraid to find rest. I started to memorize Psalm 23, I read the bible constantly it seemed. I was so bitter and cold. The dreams that I had were slowly starting to diminish. I remember crying to God, asking WHY, why WHY why was I being tested like this? He simply answered by saying, "I'm refining you."

It has been a long road. That was 8 years ago. I ran away from home, so to speak. I ran away from the town that haunted me for so long. For the best part of a year, my hometown haunted me with so many ghosts, and I didn't know what else to do but leave. I was being called to Southeastern College in Lakeland FL and I knew I couldn't ignore it anymore. I also knew the biggest test would be telling my mom and dad that I wanted to move far away. When I told my parents that I really wanted to go to school, and that the school I needed to be at was in FL, they were silenced for a moment. Then my mom looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, "We know that's where you are supposed to be. We want you to go." That was the confirmation I needed that I was headed in the right direction. So I packed up and in January made my move. I became absolutely immersed in psychology and grief and mourning and how we deal with these things – and God started moving and stirring me to share my story with others. As I learned how and why I and many others reacted to death's caustic bite, I was amazed. There are so many faces of grief – we even experience it on a daily basis. God whispered gently to me, "Remember, I am refining you." At some point, I realized why. This is why – God wanted to break me so that I could sympathize with others who experience life. :) I decided I wanted to go into grief counseling. I felt like that was my calling – whether on a professional level or not. 

The first time I shared my story, I was literally weak in the knees and a little nauseated at the thought of standing up and showing my scars to everyone. I've never had a problem with public speaking, in fact, it was broken off of me long ago at church, and I actually enjoyed being on stage and talking – I always felt like I was at a huge family gathering and I was just sharing my heart with my folks. So when my psych professor asked if I would be willing to share with the class about my experience, my first inclination was to say no and run. But I said yes. I had no idea what I would say or how I would present it or how I would begin…so I just prayed and let it be. I remember thinking it was the longest walk EVER from my table to the front of the classroom, and I could literally hear my heart pounding in my ears. I just didn't want to stand up there and cry. I turned around and looked at the eager faces of my classmates and felt this overwhelming surge of peace and love – they needed to hear what I had to say more than I needed to hang on to it and keep it a secret.

I opened my mouth and it all came pouring out and I did cry, and so did everyone else. I wasn't alone. Just a few weeks before that, a classmate of ours was killed in a car accident, so a lot of the people sitting in that class were experiencing fresh grief – and they needed to see that someone had made it through. The more I talked, the better I felt and the more glory I gave to God, the more hope I could feel rising in my spirit.

I've shared my story now in many different situations, and each time I do, it gets easier and easier to talk about. And of course the scars are still there – but the wounds are gone. The raw pain that I felt for a long time has since been covered.

It reminds me that the brokenness that I have felt so far in my life always happens for a reason. And even though the hardest part is standing in the valley wondering when I'm going to catch a glimpse of the mountain, I remember that God's ways are way higher than mine. My understanding of situations has nothing on what He is doing and is able to accomplish.

God collects the broken pieces. He is the only one who can put them together. We all have a broken, imperfect path. But when God is allowed to step in, He can take all of those broken pieces and make a wonderful masterpiece out of them – and then He desires us to share it with everyone else. 

I believe people will come into our lives and glance at our masterpiece, others will desire to add to it, some will simply relate because a certain piece catches their eye, and there will be one that will say, "Hey….my broken pieces fit perfectly with yours…" and then, God begins a new masterpiece.


Remember how Thomas recognized Jesus? By His scars. Our scars are there for a reason - so other's can recognize Him, too.




" For just as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so my ways are higher than your ways
and my thoughts higher than your thoughts." Is. 55:9