Friday, June 10, 2016

Lamenting, Creating, Imperfections and Light

I've felt really down this past week.

I was also alone for a few days.

Now before you say I'm just being sensitive, I haven't been away from my family, not one single day, in over six months. So I was sad to be away from them.

My husband drove to Tennessee, with my son, his friend and my daughter, and then they drove back the very next day.


My daughter is spending a couple weeks down there with her bestie, since middle school. A lot of time has gone by, distance has separated them, but through thick and thin, they've stayed close as ever.



They were so happy to see each other. It's really precious. 

Ironically, it was my ex-bestie's birthday. 

So she had been on my mind quite often over these past few days.

She's the one I've struggled with forgiving. It's something I will keep pursuing but I don't think I can ever be friends with her again.

Decisions had been made, on my part and hers, and our friendship imploded.

I was not only affected but my family as well.

Ya know the old saying, "Too much water under the bridge." Well this bridge was swept away.

And I grieve the death of that friendship.

But it was also my husband's aunt's birthday. She passed away almost 4 years ago.

She was only 5' maybe 4" and I think I'm being generous with her height. But let me tell ya, she had a giant personality. She was loved by everybody. She would tell the funniest stories and I would just die laughing.



In these pics above, she's telling a story about her son, Aron and her dog Thor. Her son came in from outside and took off his shoes. Wherever he was sitting was apparently somewhere close to her dog, with his feet close to Thor's face. Thor immediately lifted his head off the floor, titled his head and scampered off.

Oh my gosh, the way she told it though. As you can see, I was hysterically laughing. I went on like that for minutes.

Family meant the world to her. And she meant the world to each of us.


I miss her terribly. She was the healthiest person I knew. For her to get cancer, it's absolutely unbelievable still. There's no rhyme or reason for who gets it and who doesn't. It's heartbreaking to lose someone that special.

Oh I know lots about losing people you love. I lost a beloved aunt myself. And my granny. And my dad. And so many more. In one year alone we lost 11 people! How is that okay?!?!

I guess that's why I am drawn to messages about suffering cause' I can relate.

I was sharing with a friend how I've been feeling and she gave me permission to lament. I assured her I was.

I have been doing some creative things as well.

I decided after nearly two years to pick my paint brush back up. I finished painting an end table. It's not perfect but I love it. I think it's beautiful.


The imperfections on it remind me of an expert of Drops Like Stars, by Rob Bell. He was talking about the art of failure. He said, "What every artist must learn is that even the failed pieces are essential." He goes on to share, "The Franciscan priest Richard Rohr points out that Native Americans have a tradition of leaving a blemish in one corner of the rug they are weaving because they believe that's where the spirit enters."

It's also reminds me of the quote by Rumi.


These quotes have such deep meaning for me. Because I feel SO imperfect, when I see imperfections on part of whatever I'm working on, it's like it leaves a part of me on it.

I'll keep lamenting.
Keep creating.
Keep moving furniture. (Cause' I did that too)


The hutch was in the kitchen and I put on my She-Ra muscles (really those movers thingys on the bottom of the hutch) and pushed that sucker in the dining room. Then I hauled the little cabinet from the basement, by flipping it all the way upstairs, until it successfully sat where the hutch originally was. I definitely was praying that it wouldn't tumble back over on me. It was a nail biter for a minute or two.

Ultimately I'd like a nice, long counter in front of that window in the kitchen but those three units will have to do.

Time to find another project to work on to help with my lamenting.

Love and Peace,
Julie