Marvelous Light: happy new year! {reflections on 2013, part two}

Recently I saw the movie “August: Osage County”-though that is a whole post for another day- Julia Roberts’ character has just lost a close family member in a sudden accident and says:

“Thank God we can’t tell the future. We’d never get out of bed.”

When those words hit my ears, I kind of felt like someone socked me in the stomach. We went through a lot at the end of 2012 and spent 2013 still reeling from the shock. Through each day, I learned things, gradually, things about life, myself, my family, grace, the world... This is the second part of a post about lessons from 2013. So here we go.

6) We all need to be heard.

My family saw a family counselor several times together summer 2013. Because we've had a few instances, we’ll call them melt downs, where everything has come pretty close to blowing up. Life seemed to be, for a few moments, spinning completely out of control. My brother and I have always argued and been really good at it, but now, our family dynamic out of whack and grief in places we didn't even know it – we needed help. The professional kind. Either that, or we needed to sign a contract for a reality show because we were having “made for TV” train wreck moments.

And Dr. Bourne taught us, through tears and listening and trying to put our grief into words, that we all need to be heard. That as a family, the three of us (plus sweet Amy & patient Drew) didn't know how to communicate. We all talked, he said, and no one listened. He was like... a genius!

Though we do not need agreement, we need acceptance of what we are saying from those that love us. Dr. Bourne explained that I needed to listen to my brother, but I did not have to agree with my brother. Nor should I expect him to agree with me.

We all need to be heard by those we love. And, in turn, we all need to listen. Such a simple concept, yet it has been a game changer for getting along with my closest peeps.

7) Singing is healing.

I have found that church is really, really healing, and really, really hard. As I’ve tried to figure out why, it's occurred to me: it’s not hearing scripture that’s hard, or seeing friends, or listening to the sermon – it’s the singing. The words and the sound and the being still - singing, though painful, has been very healing. I am incredibly thankful for musically inclined who write and play music because I can do neither, and it’s good for my soul.

8) People, above all else, matter.

My dad’s financial provisions for our family have been so wonderful, don’t get me wrong. Truly, wonderful, and have brought much peace, stability, and comfort to my mom and my brother and myself. However, without my parent’s friends, without his friends from various stages of life, and without my own friends, and my husband, and Amy, and the Carrigans, and all of you that love on us and care for us….all the “financial security” would be meaningless. In the end, people matter above everything else. And though my dad had great life insurance policies and investments and budgets in place, more important to him were his connections, and networks: the work out guys, his friends from middle school/high school/college, his favorite federal agent, his study group, his young life leader Luke, his chapelwood softball team – all these people who have loved us so well in his absence. One of my dad’s annual goals in 2011 was to spend time with William Chenoweth – written in there among different business goals, he wanted to be sure his calendar had plenty of room for baseball and his friend. He wanted to be sure his staff was aware of his priorities. I need to mimic that idea.

People, above all else, matter.

9) My mom is my hero.

I relearn this almost daily. The stuff she has been through... wow. Sometimes it feels like the hits just keep coming – my uncle totaling his truck and closely avoiding seriously hurting himself in an accident. My aunt getting breast cancer. My grandfather and great-grandfather dying. My brother and I being the jerks we can be. She’s ramped up her business full throttle. She’s traveled with New York Life and spoken about my dad’s career six times. She’s mastered a teleprompter beautifully! She loves on people. She smiles. Shoot, she gets out of bed everyday! She brings us all such laughter and joy and she’s also shown us it’s okay to just be ticked off every now and then. She's modeled forgiving and taking the higher road, more times than she should have had to.

You've seen those commercials for the Olympics where they have the hot-shot athletes as little kids, and it shows how much their moms do for them? Gentry & I, unfortunately, are not Olympics material. But, our mom deserves one of those commercials nonetheless.

10) Untimely death can make you bold.

Faith has pulled us through this thick muck. I should loudly give God the credit for all he has done for our family and all he has provided. I know that there are kids out there (and adults, too!) that never had the chance to have the gifts we’ve had (healthy great-grandparents, an amazing-terrific-rare-find-totally-awesome Dad) and that God has not been “unfair” to us and God did not cause the plane accident. I should be much bolder in crediting God when people ask how we’re doing or how we get on without TWR.

11) It is good to be silly.

I’ve got lots of notes on this theory, how it is a good thing to be ridiculous. It’s actually enough to save for a full post, soon, so for now, enough from me.