Lately I've been allowing myself to be tripped-up a little by Facebook and the things people choose to post. The phrase, "it is what it is," certainly applies to Facebook and all social media. You take the good with the bad. Maybe you block the bad. Or unfriend it. Facebook is a place that easily perpetuates sinful attitudes, and I have needed to step back for that reason.
Before I continue with this post, let me define stepping back. I see the positives in Facebook. This is not a Facebook bashing post. In fact, when people decide they're taking a Facebook fast, I find myself to be frustrated at what they are saying to all their FB friends. "I'm sorry. I can't have you in my life right now." I used to think that they were doing something honorable, but now I am not so sure. Here's the thing, Facebook is a place to connect with people. Why in the world does anyone need to take a fast from people and relationships? Sure, if you are spending time playing games and staring at a screen all the time, practice self-control, but why eliminate your influence on the people you have chosen to include in your life? Because, let's face it, Facebook is a part of our lives. Of course, FB doesn't replace face-to-face contact with friends and family, but there is a point where the collective we seems to just dismiss proper social etiquette and graces because we're not face-to-face when we're on FB. I disagree with this completely. But, as I said...
It is what it is.
When I tell you I'm stepping back a little, I mean that I have found in myself a bad attitude that may have been perpetuated by my recent experiences on Facebook, and I need to ponder that and fix it, which may require me to spend a little less time on Facebook, which is what I did without advertisement. Sometimes, people post things that they don't even realize are having a negative effect on someone else. It's not the "I spent a thousand bucks on my kid" posts that bug me (because that is ridiculous on all levels). It's the "I am living my life freely and skipping the hard stuff" posts that get to me. I know I am clearly confessing heart issues, but that's what this post is about. I made a little journey through muck this week, and I'm sharing the muck with you.
Shoo! That's off my chest. Back to what I came here to write today.
My blog has become this place where I muddle through my circumstances, which are not all that glorious right now, so I hope it isn't becoming a place of sadness. I have joy. I want everyone to see that, in spite of all the muck, I am muddling through with the joy of the Lord. On the days that I don't feel quite so joyous, God is still getting me through, and that's what I want people to see.
Some days really don't feel joyous, and I really haven't been saying that boldly. Sometimes, the circumstances of our lives stink. That is the place where I live right now. Stinky stuff on my to-do list. Why not proclaim the hard stuff too? I'm here to do that today. Digging through my parents' house? It makes me anxious, causes brain fog, makes me cry and want to sleep. It's hard. Just plain hard.
Yes, it is a grand privilege that I get to choose to be a part of this whole experience of cleaning out my parents' home. I found myself wondering what it would be like to not choose this, to be able to move on with life and have time for things that I love like gardening, scrapbooking, writing, and traveling. I wondered for several days if that would make this healing journey easier. If I didn't have to immerse myself into my parents' lives and what is left of them, and I could live my life normally, would I heal faster? Better?
Because, inside of me, there is this part of me that just wants to feel normal again, whatever normal is. I really don't remember. The grief group which I attend with my children keeps reiterating that we will come to a "new normal." I believe we will. I have to believe it or I won't press on.
In all this process, I realized that I didn't want to make it easier. I would thoroughly regret it. I don't want to live with that kind of regret.
After my two or three days of envying that option of choosing something else, I realized that, at the end of the hardest day, I would never, ever choose it. This is what I would choose, not because it is the right thing to do (because it obviously is that), but because I want to do it for my parents. I would bend over backwards to be a part of this process. Sure, healing may take longer, but that healing will go deeper, and I will be free of regret. I am touching parts of them, remembering, knowing, hearing their voices in my head, laughing, crying, and living my life with them as I dig through endless piles of old bills, photographs, clothes, letters, and mementos.
I can't say that this is enjoyable, though there are parts of it that have brought me joy. It is so good for my soul. I will be glad to look back and remember these hard months knowing that I did this last thing for my parents, with them, honoring their memories with my choice.
I know it could be said that someone has to do it. We can't just let their stuff sit in their house forever. I know that. I just want to say that...
I am blessed to have chosen this.
I am blessed to be the someone.
466. Boy in red hat helping clean shed
467. Girl taking time to process
468. Bits of family history learned
469. Ford and Associates Cable TV jacket. Pin holes where I covered Dad's name with a band button still present. My jacket? Daddy's jacket.