Grief in Stereo

I dreamed about my dad last night.

It was the second time I’ve dreamed about him. The first time - for lack of desire to describe the whole, awful thing - I wouldn’t classify as a dream but a nightmare that I’m sure was my mind’s way of processing my own sense of helplessness.

Last night’s dream, however, would normally be quickly forgotten in the routine of morning – just one of those mundane dreams that could easily be a memory of any given Tuesday. The only difference is that my dad happened to be in it.

Perhaps that’s why I cried when I woke up and when I was alone in my classroom and now as I write this. It was so natural for my dad to be part of my mundane, my everyday, so when I woke up and had to remember that’s not true – that it’s no longer my normal, I felt his absence, my loss, so acutely today.

Grief is funny that way. It reminds me of a stereo with broken speakers that cause the sound to fade in and out. Some days, the sound is distant, distant enough to allow me to focus on other things. It’s still in the background, playing its song, an unwelcomed soundtrack to life, but I can push it aside a little.

Some days, like today, the sound is full and robust and demands to be heard, demands an audience.

Gratitude in the midst of Grief

While I adjust to a new normal, I am going back to something familiar, and typing out my thoughts is what I know. As it happens, I have many thoughts on this whole process of saying good-bye without want or warning, (but I’ll save that for another time).

My thoughts today, in this moment, revolve around something else.

Each day that I grieve the loss of my dad, God has been gracious and merciful enough to temper that grief with a specific type of supernatural solace. Today, that balm is gratitude.

One of my kind friends just left my classroom. She came to offer love, comfort, and tangible help. To have one such friend is a blessing, but I have the absolute privilege of many such friends and family members. Even my students are part of this beautiful community I am blessed by.

I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who reached out, everyone who hugged, everyone who has helped my brothers and me with logistics, and everyone who has lifted us up in prayer. Please know this: it is all felt.

Thank you for reaching out and understanding that a lack of a specific response does not mean you weren’t heard or weren’t helpful. I’ve read and reread so many posts and texts, and they have brought me so much comfort. Thank you.

I have also been profoundly reminded why God calls us to community. To have people I love weep with me when I wept and laugh with me when I laughed…well, it’s hard to put the value and impact of it all into words.

So...though this might not fully or eloquently express all I’m feeling, please know I am wonderfully overwhelmed with gratitude for you and your incredible support. I am overwhelmed by God’s mercy and grace and favor that has been present through all of this and through many of you.

Update: As I finished typing this, another kind friend came to check up on me. She offered a warm hug and open ear.  

I Cannot Do Both

The last couple weeks have been a bit rough, not horrible, just definitely not smooth.

My teaching has been interrupted by minimum days, assemblies, testing, and drills (and I’ve felt under-informed as to the logistics of most of this until the last possible moment). My poor little Pip (my cute little car) is currently in the shop being repaired because someone in a hurry decided they needed to be in my lane, you know, regardless of the fact I was already there and two objects cannot exist in the same space at the same time. Plus, said driver has yet (I emphasize YET because I am still hopeful) to take responsibility for his action (or at least his insurance company hasn’t) and the damage is such that fault is ambiguous. My deductible? Not as low as one would hope. There were many witnesses. None stopped.

Physically I’ve not been sick, but I’ve been so very tired.

In all this, I was reminded of something I saw on Project Wow’s Instagram page: You can Worry or you can Worship. You cannot do both.

Granted the things I’ve listed are not life altering; in the grand scheme of life, they are a blip – I know this. Logically.

So, when I start to rehearse possible confrontations with claim adjusters or get upset my plans for the week were derailed or stress to make sure I get everything done, I stop. I breathe. I let go of my sense of control. I pray about the unknown. I let God handle it. (He’s so much better at it anyway.)

I choose to worship.

Stay. Smile.

For those who only know adult Shannon, this might be hard to imagine, but I used to be quite shy. Painfully so, actually. What might be harder to imagine? I was also a fairly quiet kid, as though I were saving my words for a time when I would know just how and when to use them.

Fast forward to now, and I’ve for sure depleted any storehouse of saved words from my childhood. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m rather overdrawn.

I have no problem starting conversations with strangers in everyday, random situations. I confuse those passing by with an eye contact-smile combination. However, every once in a while, when the stars align, or (more realistically) when there is a chance of actual rejection or vulnerability, my former timidity raises its downcast head.

A year and a handful of months ago, I traveled to Great Britain on my own and was totally fine with it, yet when going to an event put on by Hillsong Church, I began to get very, very nervous. Here I was in London with the intent of getting to know the city and its people. Going to a place full of fellow Christians was pretty ideal; I mean, we already had the whole “you love Jesus, too” thing going. If I was going to meet anyone, this would definitely be the place. But getting more nervous, I did the only thing I could think to do. I called my mom.

As moms often do, she gave me really good advice: Smile and don’t leave.

I thought, okay, I can do that. I smile a lot. Like, a lot, a lot, so that wasn’t going to be an issue. I just had to get myself there and not leave. Spoiler: Not only did I survive, but I met some incredible people.

I also internalized this advice and put it into practice again yesterday. My church hosted a community group open house of sorts. I have very much wanted to find real friendships at my church as I believe community is vital. Though rather nervous, I knew the importance of going, and I knew the rules: smile and don’t leave.

Not surprisingly, I again met incredible people (turns out, the world is full of them). I like to think I met people I will soon call friends, in fact. In full disclosure, I’m still over-analyzing my end of a few conversations because I haven’t quite figured out that part of my neurosis, but I smiled. I stayed. 

Kew Gardens

From the smallest greenhouse - the lilypad house

The Royal Botanical Gardens in Kew was absolutely breathtaking. I spent a wonderful 6 and 1/2 hours wondering around the enormous grounds.

The Rock Garden - Prettiest Rock Garden I ever did see

From incredible views atop the Treetop Walk (I posted a collage on my instagram if you are so inclined to view), to the seemingly endless park space, to the Georgian House and Kitchen, this place was so worth the price of admission. 

All that time walking around, thinking of everything and nothing all at once - simply taking in the beauty of God's creation (wonderfully manicured by the staff at Kew).

I even got my paintbrush wet, and even though it was only a few dips of color, it was a nice exercise. 

As always, I find myself planning on taking this with me when I go home - to explore the beauty close (or semi-close) to home and really take my time to explore it - to savor whatever it is that makes it beautiful.

Also, I realized that a good pair of shoes is essential.

Sunday Service Comfort

Today I attended Hillsong London (Dominion Theatre), and it was incredibly refreshing to my spirit. Not only was the worship great - though that's not surprising since it is Hillsong - the message was inspiring and the people welcoming.

The message was about worship, real worship, and how it isn't an external exercise but an internal one; it is a posture of the heart. In everything we do, we can worship because in everything we do, we can give God the glory. When we work, shop, eat, love, we are reflecting our relationship with God (for better or worse).

Now, if I find I am being short-tempered or self-centered, I can surmise that I am probably not spending enough time in the presence and in the love of God. What better way to live than to be so filled with love that it cannot but help to pour out to those around us? What better way to live than to be secure in the knowledge that the God of the universe loves you wholly? After all, isn't that what it means to live a life more abundantly?

I love being reminded that my walk with the Lord isn't a checklist of behaviors, but rather it is getting to know Him more and more. It is understanding this closeness is the true catalyst for interal and eternal changes.

A Thought from London

I am finding it hard to journal here. I'm not sure why. Perhaps I am trying too hard to find meaning in what should be simple enjoyment.

I came here for adventure and to experience the city. I am fortunate because I am getting to do just that. But I wonder if I didn't also sneak in a "life-changing" in front of that adventure goal, and now I am looking too far into the future meaning of things to simply write about the now. Everytime I meet someone or relax at a park, somewhere in the back of my head, I am adding to a pros or cons list of living here instead of just taking it in. The idea that the experience, if written down, will need to be categorized.

Even with that said, I am thoroughly enjoying my time; I'm just not writing about it like I thought I would be.