A Horse Story

Several weeks ago, I had dinner with some of my new Texas girlfriends.  All four of us have diverse backgrounds and none are Texas natives.  One is a former editor from Chicago, one is a Finnish musician and the other is an Alaskan native who moved to Texas in her youth.  Throughout the evening, we were sharing stories from our past and of how we got to where we are today.  As you can imagine, we had quite a collection of tales.

For some reason, I was remembering an encounter with certain extended family members shortly after my husband’s death.  What surprised me through sharing was how much my anger over the situation had subsided as time had passed.

It was Good Friday, 2010.  We had just buried my husband a week prior.  It was early in the morning and my kids, my mother (who was living and caring for us at the time) and I were resting at home and hoping to sleep in that day.  We lived on a 15 acre wooded estate and weren’t in the habit of locking our doors on a regular basis at night.  I woke to the sound of our dogs barking which really didn’t cause me much concern as they often barked at a deer, raccoon or other creature that wandered close by.

At one point my six-year-old daughter unexpectedly came into my bedroom and asked if she could ride her Auntie’s horse.  The children were supposed to spend the afternoon at their Aunt and Uncle’s farm and thus, my response was simply “of course.”   I thought she was unusually animated and excited about my response so I questioned her a bit.  She said,  “Auntie is here now and I am going to get ready” as she scurried out the room.  In my typical early morning mental fog, I still wasn’t sure what she was telling me.  Whereas my brother in law and his family lived just a couple of miles down the road, no one had ever ridden their horse over to the house so this simply sounded absurd.

I decided that I needed to investigate a bit more.  I got in my wheelchair with great effort (as I had only been out of the hospital a few weeks and was still in a great deal of pain) and proceeded to go into the main part of the house.  Sure enough Auntie was in my home lurking around while her horse was tied to a tree grazing on my front lawn.

(Auntie and I have had somewhat of a contentious relationship for years and for the most part didn’t interact much.  So this was totally out of the norm.)

Naturally, I was shocked that someone had the audacity to walk into my house unannounced and was greatly offended by the boldness of the actions – especially in my current state.  It was revealed that my sister in law rode her horse over when she assumed that we would all probably be sleeping.  She didn’t drive over like she would have normally as she was aware that the sound of a car driving down our gravel road would most certainly arouse me, especially on a holiday when we would not be expecting any visitors early in the morning.  She came to snoop, to see what she could find and was caught red handed. And to make the situation that much more appalling to me, she came riding in like Tonto on horseback.

You see one of those unpredictable / unforeseeable issues that I’m still trying to process is that often times when someone dies, sensibility and compassion are often tossed aside.  And people get weird – normalcy and rational behavior is lost.

Whereas this may sound like a trivial story 3+ years later, I gained a new perspective by sharing .   .  .

At the time, I was enraged, insulted, violated and very emotionally charged over her audacity, accusations, boldness and sheer irreverence.  What surprised me the other night was how in telling the story, I found humor in the absurdity of it all; at how my friends and I were on the brink of tears, laughing at a situation that at one time was ridiculous and appalling; and that how given time, this same ridiculousness brought about hugs, laughter and facilitated the sharing of dessert and another glass of wine.

In short, a situation that at once invoked such anger and hurt, now made me laugh.  What a blessing that time can transform one’s emotional reaction.

Moving forward with grace and forgiveness is what I work on every day – keeping this at the mental forefront can do wonders for the soul.  

Embracing Possibilities

Over the past couple of years I have become fairly close with several who have suffered a great loss.  There is one thing that many of us seem to have in common – a lack of patience that manifests itself in an internal tug of war with time.

While in the depths of grief and sorrow, it is all we can do to get through each and every day.  We count the hours until we can go back to sleep.  When we sleep, time passes faster and when it is time to wake up, we curse the hours of daylight.  (I suspect that this an obvious sign of depression.)

Our waking hours gradually become less and less of a drudgery but this is a lengthy process.  I remember counting every 24-hour milestone - 1 day, 3 days, 7 days and then 10.  We move on to weeks - 3 weeks, 5 weeks, 7 weeks then 12.  Then months, 3, 4, 6, 9 and eventually, one year has passed.  The first year seems like an eternity.  When we make it to the second year, we feel like we’ve accomplished something almost supernatural. 

But when we get to year 3, there can be colossal disappointment.  Our life isn’t quite yet, back on track – and society says that it is supposed to be.  You see we are just regaining our footing and our “new life” begins now.  We can be likened to adult adolescents, starting over. 

I tried to rush this process. I went through the steps outwardly but this wasn’t always reconciled internally.  At 3 years, I was supposed to have it all figured out.  Well I didn’t.  This realization was at first so very disparaging. 

Over the last few months, I’m finally giving myself some grace.  When faced with tragedy, human nature is to gravitate towards what we know; towards what is comfortable.  I believe that this is our soul’s way of protecting us and by keeping us from taking on more than we can handle.  But there comes a time when the comfortable, the known isn’t always in our best interest.  Breaking away from that is tough. 

I’m a work in progress.  I’m for once starting to get excited about the unchartered path to new opportunities and relationships.  The future doesn’t have to be so scary anymore. 

When I was in my late teens and early 20’s, I was filled with the excitement of possibilities.  I’m digging deep to find that thrill and to recreate that energy.  It’s harder this time around because the risk is greater.  My life experiences have made me more fragile and to further complicate the situation, it isn’t just about me anymore as I have little and (not so little) people that are depending on me.

However, life continually gets better.  I am blessed and thankful and constantly speak this truth out loud.  My days are now more often than not, fulfilling.  I go to bed exhausted from a sense of accomplishment, not as means of escape.  My future will reveal itself one day at a time and this is cause for excitement and joy, not for fear and in trepidation. 

Another Day After . . .

So here we are again trying to make sense of the tragedy that unfolded yesterday in Washington.  As I was glued to the television, I kept wondering when the shooter’s mental health history would be a topic of discussion.  And sure enough less than 24 hours after the tragedy, it was revealed that Aaron Alexis had sought out psychiatric treatments for posttraumatic stress disorder.  We are still learning many of the details but it has been repeatedly reported that he heard voices, sought help from two different VA hospitals and had access to guns.  All indications are that Aaron Alexis was seriously ill.  And again we are picking up the pieces of destruction from a troubled soul.

We have tiptoed around key issues long enough so let’s get it out there for real this time.  People with mental health issues should never have access to guns.  I don’t care if you are a republican, a democrat, or partial to the tea party; and I don’t care whether or not you believe in the right to bear arms.

Let me say it again . . . PEOPLE WITH MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES SHOULD NEVER HAVE ACCESS TO GUNS.

We have gotten so hung up on politicizing each atrocity that as a society, we can’t even think straight.  Have we totally lost our ability to have a rational discussion, to focus on the real crisis at hand and move forward guided by common sense? 

Political noise has prevented us from acting logically.

As a victim of gun violence by someone with a mental health backstory, I am infuriated by what I see continually taking place. 

The mental health community so often practices in a vacuum and this is causing more harm than good.   The discipline of mental health is arguably the most subjective medicinal practice we have today and yet the one that has the fewest checks and balances.   Many in the profession say that it is because of the “stigma” that mental health invokes and then go on to use buzzwords such as Confidentiality, Privacy and Hippa.   Now I believe in a patient’s right to privacy and in the purpose of Hippa but not at the expense of innocent lives.

And I beg to ask when there is a tragedy and the media starts digging, what parts of confidentiality and privacy are ultimately respected and revered?  This holds true for the perpetrator, the victims and the extended families of both.

The system as we know it, is broken.  The violence that results from mentally unhealthy people who have access to guns is of epidemic proportion.

Mental Health needs to practice what it preaches and spend some serious time devoted to self-analysis.  Perhaps it is time for a “group therapy” session in conjunction with law enforcement, the judicial system, mental health providers, the caregivers and the patient.  It’s time to grow up, have a relevant dialogue and identify and implement policies that promote safety, wellness and healing.

But if we don’t alter the way with which we deal with mental illness then the advancements that we have seen thus far will be eroded. The pendulum of progress is about to make a violent swing in the wrong direction due to the backlash that will inevitably occur from these continuous, senseless and tragic acts.

The Day After

There will always be “The Day After.”

Today is the anniversary of our country’s "Day After" . .  . The Day After 9/11.  And each and every year as we pay reverence to the violent act of terrorism that changed our country forever, we are reminded that life goes on - albeit, a life that is different, scarred and with sadness.

Life seems to provide us with many other “Days After.”  

The Day After we hear that the cancer is terminal,

The Day After we loose a spouse through death or divorce,

The Day after we bury a beloved parent or grandparent,

The Day After we get the phone call that a son or daughter was hit by a drunk driver and is on life support,

The Day After there has been the gruesome discovery of the remains of a neighbor’s child who was abducted six weeks prior.

And it is how we handle them that really matters.

Recently, I’ve started to have an awareness of the heartache other people have experienced and I’ve become acutely aware of this with new perspective.  It is as if I used to see life through “rose colored” glasses and “bad things” used to remain at a safe “arm’s length” distance.   This isn’t the case anymore. 

I still ask why and I still don’t have any answers.  But this is what I have learned and this is what I know.

We all experience tragedy; we all grieve; we all suffer, mourn and live through heartache.  But it’s what we do with our lives after we’ve experienced great suffering that makes a difference in our lives and in the lives of others.

We have a choice . . .

To go through life angry, bitter and jaded only to complain about a life that is unfair.

Or to wake up every morning and be thankful that we are still here on this earth; to embrace life’s opportunities; to be thankful that we were given one more day to touch someone’s life; to be a personal testament to others around us that life does go on; to reach out, to touch and to hold the grief stricken and to be a pillar of strength for those who are too fragile to stand on their own.

Make Your “Day After” Count.

“You’ll get through this . . .” Max Lucado

Last Sunday this renowned Christian Author was a guest pastor at my church.  His message was extremely poignant and so very profound.  I felt as if he was speaking to me directly; providing me with a personal message from God to help me transcend through the heartache, despair and tragedy that our family has had to endure.

He opened with . . .

“You’ll get through this.  It won’t be painless.  It won’t be quick.  But God will use this mess for good.  Don’t be foolish or naïve.  But don’t despair either.  With God’s help, you will get through this.”

Yep, I think God wanted to make sure that I heard this because I’ve been living through one gigantic mess for quite sometime!  And whereas I am moving in the right direction, there are days where it feels like I’m just trading one mess for another; solving one problem while simultaneously stumbling on another; and fighting all the way through.

Sound familiar?

What Mr. Lucado brought to light is that scripture is full of these “messes” and because of our familiarity with certain Biblical stories; we often fail to see the message of what can be accomplished through “turbulent times.”

Last week’s sermon was centered around the Old Testament story of Joseph, which happened to be my late husband, Gabe’s most loved Biblical story.

Andrew Lloyd Weber’s musical production of "Joseph and His Coat of Many Colors" was always a family favorite.  One very special memory that I have of our earlier life together was when we took our “Little Gabe” (for his 3^rd birthday) to see a production at the Chicago Theater with Donny Osmond in the lead.  We owned numerous copies of the soundtrack.  We attended adaptations of this in Chicago, St. Louis and everywhere in between.  We knew all the words and I would sometimes play the musical score on the piano so we could sing “Any Dream Will Do” together as a family. 

But last Sunday, I heard a very different story with a profoundly different message.  My familiarity with the musical had hindered my ability to see this as a story that I could embrace and learn something from. It just never felt relevant. 

What I am now discovering however, is that the real story of Joseph is one of patience, perseverance and faith that overcomes betrayal, imprisonment, despair and rejection; a story of transcending through a terrible set of circumstances and using those experiences to become great leader; a story of exemplary greatness only realized through a pathway of adversity.

I certainly can’t speak or write as eloquently as Max Lucado and I won’t even begin to try.  But, these are the key points that particularly spoke to me:

1   1.     Pray your pain out.
2.     Don’t give into despair
3.     He uses tragedy to accomplish His will.
4.     It’s always better to shake your fist at God than to turn your back to him. (Yes, it is okay to be angry.)
5.     God gets his people through things – you won’t be stuck here forever.

I have begun to study and absorb Mr. Lucado’s latest book. I challenge you to use his message to help you Transcend Your Own Personal Tragedy.  

After all, “You’ll get through this.  It won’t be painless.  It won’t be quick.  But God will use this mess for good.  Don’t be foolish or naïve.  But don’t despair either.  With God’s help, you will get through this.”

And if you won’t take my word for it, below is the link to a review of You'll Get Through This from the Washington Times:

http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2013/sep/5/kellner-popular-author-wrestles-with-the-question-/?page=1