closure.

a heavy dose of passenger in my life, and i laugh free.

in the recent week, i have loved with the Lord and thanked him all the same. it seems silly to remember some things, but it has made all the difference.

my favorite move in life is the stiff arm. in the last 2 years or so, ive stiff armed a lot of people. heres a poster. its nicer, more gentle, it laughs on cue, and it would love to be your friend, and get close with you. not always like that, but ive watched myself do it enough times to know. hence the word 'trust' coming up on a regular basis. learning to love and receive it. a couple weeks ago, i wrote a letter to reconcile. a few old wounds were finally mending, and with the mending came freedom and release. with it came trust and a softer side of life. a positive response started to remove some of the stitches. the scar started to become a story. funny to me that about 2 days after i sent this letter, i ran into a friend writing a difficult letter too. when she told me, i laughed because the process can be a bitter thing, but it is necessary. most processes are. in vague descriptions, i heard old wounds, resilience and some hope. some determination. we both laughed. after i left, i prayed for her letter, for her hands, and for her heart. this season of prayer has been weak and unfamiliar. so i told her. i prayed that the process would yield healing whether or not the letter was sent, or even finished. and she reminded me that often times, those counted for quite a bit.

 during this time, i started to try and remember more of my life. a remembered life is an integrated one. i wanted to be whole. so much many of my lingering memories drift around my injury. why did i do what i did? why did i allow others to make decisions for me? funny enough, this friend with the letter had a similar process, but more intense than mine. i wanted to hear her voice in her story. she talked and i heard it all, because a lot of it, i knew very intimately. more commonalities surfaced, and it made me hungry for more. shes a good story teller with a wise heart, so over the course of the day, we spent 4 hours sharing life. that verb is key. sharing. not taking, not giving, but sharing. this is where the stiff arm comes in. i didnt stiff arm her. i trusted her and i believed her. she knew the process too. and her wisdom reminded me to be gentle and patient, not only with others, but also with myself. i walked away satisfied. and loved. and hopeful. not that i didnt know those before, but i remembered them and believed them. as silly as it sounds, in that conversation i remembered that i love people. i love caring for people. i love knowing people and their stories. i love when people are honest. i love bearing stories and holding them. i love all of it. hearing her talk reminded me that i can do those, and do them well. that im not defective and my holes dont have to stop me from loving people. the conversation was so healing. i walked away lighter and deeper at the same time, thanking God for his intentionality. i still cant say why i was so interested in her process, or even what i was looking for. maybe i wasnt looking for anything. but God played a good hand and for that i am still thankful. the plan is now to meet weekly, because she enjoyed it too. someone can enjoy my presence. and i dont have to rank them, or make them older than me. i can learn and love and that can be enough. i can be enough.

the letter that i sent a few weeks ago was in response to an invitation. i attended, praying with grace to celebrate a friend who accomplished something, despite all opposition to it. and i remembered that process too. she was brave and stood up and was credited for her work. i sat next to hannah and remembered life, and was so thankful. so thankful that this process has healing, because it had been so wounding. and the details arent necessary, but the redemption was there. at the end, an exchange was made. the letter and conversation with my other friend had already dressed my wound. i felt free, no longer bound by this past. i had forgiven and let it go. there was nothing left to reconcile, no intentions, no responses necessary from the exchange. the exchange itself wasnt even necessary. but it finished off the healing. "thank you for coming. i really appreciate it. you coming means a lot to me". eye contact, and a genuine side that i know well. i said, "i wouldnt miss it for anything". and there was peace and healing. hopefully for both sides. but certainly here. and the wound is now a story. it does not evoke emotions. it does not cause me to relive anything. it is a story, and it doenst need to be shared with anyone, but it is nice to know that i can. i can share stories. i can disclose. funny too that the word 'closure' is so closely related to 'disclose'. perhaps we would do well to camp out there.

 i lived. i am living. i can live. i do live. this week was the first time in a while where i self-disclosed without fear. i trusted. it was simple. i came from somewhere. i have a story. i can tell it. i believed that the people on the other side were not going to abandon me. they were going to trust me too. "the story is important because it is real. it is your story. it is important for no other reason than that". my story is important. sarah used to say that i couldnt push that on other people and not believe it for myself. but i did. the ability to separate yourself. what a cursed privilege. in talking to a friend, i was reminded that the coping habits of my life are not markers of deficiencies and poor experience. instead they are strengths that you cant have until youve lived there. they make you easier to hire. more patient sometimes. better endurance. whichever scar it is, its tough as hell. scar tissue can bend titanium. you cant break it. for better or worse. scars can be a privilege. there is no need to give yourself any, but if you have, i hope youve learned from it. perhaps it will remind you to be gentle with yourself, as it has done for me.

thankful for time to breathe and be free.

i found closure this week. for some old wounds, and for some more recent ones. by my own hands and by others. and its been a painful process for the most part. but i have it now. i have closure. or perhaps it has me. i do not think we can grasp it, but we can certainly rest in it.

Well you only need the light when its burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low
Only hate the road when you’re missing home
Only know you love her when you let her go
And you let her go

Staring at the bottom of your glass
Hoping one day you’ll make a dream last
But dreams come slow and they go so fast
You see her when you close your eyes
Maybe one day you’ll understand why
Everything you touch surely dies

But you only need the light when its burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go
Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low
Only hate the road when you’re missing home
Only know you love her when you let her go


Staring at the ceiling in the dark
Same old empty feeling in your heart
Cos love comes slow and it goes so fast
Well you see her when you fall asleep
But never to touch and never to keep
Cos you loved her too much and you dived too deep


Well you only need the light when its burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low
Only hate the road when you’re missing home
Only know you love her when you let her go
And you let her go
And you let her go
Well you let her go