Please check out my latest post on Substack
Jump over to Substack for my latest post.
By the start of my junior year of high school, I was ready to be done with school. I had no plans for my future, no idea what job I’d do to support myself. I just wanted out. So, I took as few classes as possible so my day would end around noon.
At the same time, my mother was encouraging me to pursue a career in art. All my life, she had pushed me to develop my artistic abilities. She especially thought I had a bent for design and wanted me to enroll in courses at the Corcoran Gallery in Washington DC.
So, I listened, and by the end of my junior year, I had a new vision for my life. Inspired by Peter Max and Andy Warhol, I wanted to become a commercial artist. So, I packed my senior courses with electives in art and design with a plan to eventually study art at the Corcoran.
Then I got pregnant.
And abortion sounded like the best option. And who would dare to deny a 17-year-old gifted artist the world that laid at her feet?
Now, if you know a speck of my story, you know I walked out of that abortion clinic. And you know I married that baby’s father, Tim. But you may not know it was 50 years ago today that I gave birth to my daughter Kelly. Then two years later, her brother, Daniel was born. And my only regret? I didn’t have more kids.
The marriage was hard, really hard. But as I became more deeply rooted in my Christian faith, I clung to scripture for direction. I considered divorce many times, but kept coming back to the verse where Jesus said He hated divorce.
And just when I was ready to quit, Daniel got arrested. And that forced Tim and me to come together and fight for our son. Again, I went back to the scripture where Jesus left the flock to go after the one. Which inspired Tim and me to buck up and stand by Daniel. So for the next 5 ½ years, every weekend, we laid our lives down and visited Daniel in prison. And when he got out, he never looked back.
Then after 38 years of marriage, Tim got cancer. And once again I was faced with a choice. Do I put my life on hold to care for him? I didn’t even wrestle with the decision. Again scripture led me to say, of course I will. Then all my thoughts and actions over the next 2 ½ years, centered on making Tim’s life the best it could be. And in the process, our marriage blossomed as we discovered a deeper love for one another. A love I never thought possible.
Now I wonder why I ever wrestled with God over choosing to lay my life down for others. Because these few crossroads of my life, have produced in me, the greatest satisfaction.
Maybe that’s why parenting is so essential to our wellbeing. Maybe that’s why God consistently pushes us into situations like caring for the elderly. Maybe it’s the care giver who gets the most out of those situations. As the world tells me all the ways I am entitled to live my BEST LIFE, I think I’ll stick to what the bible says. And I’ll let what Paul said in Romans 3 prove my point:
…let God be found true, though every man be found a liar…
When have you followed scripture when the world told you to do otherwise?
It started in my thirties. The need to push myself to see what else I could learn. I never wanted to settle. So I signed up for piano lessons with my kid’s teacher. Every week, with my music book tucked under my arm, I waited my turn to plink away. After four years, I wasn’t very good, but I proved to myself I could still learn new things.
That started a trend for the rest of my life. Every decade I would pick something new to learn.
In my forties, it was ballet. A friend of mine owned a studio in our town where most of her adult students had ballet experience. But as a kid, this tomboy never considered taking dance lessons. But every Monday for five years I stepped up to the barre and I plié’d. And to my surprise, I really liked ballet and wished I’d taken it when I was younger.
When a move to Florida took me from the studio, and I faced another decade, I began to wonder what was next. Then in my early 50’s, my life began to unravel. Cancer took my husband Tim’s life leaving me in need of something to process my grief.
For years, Tim had begged me to get my motorcycle license. Ever since our teens, we had spent hours carving out turns on the country roads of Northern Virginia.
So several months after his funeral, in the early morning dawn, I took my place on the motorcycle range. And for several weeks, I navigated shifting gears and slamming on the brakes and I got my motorcycle permit.
For the next year, when the loneliness of Tim’s absence overcame me, I backed our bike out of the garage, and drove it around the lake near my home. Once again I proved to myself that even in my 50’s, I could still learn something new.
Now in my late 60’s, the trend has not stopped. After years of being Tim’s carpentry assistant, I took on the task of renovating my little townhouse. Of course, my family helped, but I learned to cut my own angles on a chop saw as I hung my own trim. I learned to lay hardwood flooring and tile, all by myself. And the best part of all, I mastered the tape measure and all those insane sixteenths of an inch you need for fine art carpentry.
It’s easy to grow old and think we know ourselves well. That we’re past the age to learn new things. But we humans are far more capable than we realize. Because our God created us to never stop learning new things.
I have a hunch that heaven will be much like this old earth. Only we’ll all have the benefit of endless time.
So, what if the passions we have here on earth are what we take with us to eternity? What if we teach what we know to others? What if my ballerina friend teaches ballet classes there, and Tim teaches fine art cabinet making? What if one of the best parts of heaven is having endless time to learn and perfect new things?
What have you not had time to learn that you wish would be there to learn in heaven? Do you think I’m wrong? If so, tell me about it.
He sat across from me in a leather chair. His legal pad balanced on his crossed knee. As I spoke, he took notes. His pencil making that light scratching noise as it scraped across the page.
I’d never been to a therapist before, but I knew I needed one. So there I sat, running down the list of my thirty some years. My father’s death, my teenage pregnancy, my troubled marriage.
When I finally stopped, Tom lifted his pencil, looked at me and said,
“Wow Ellen, that’s a lot. And it’s a good thing you’re here. You’re at that age when the tools you used to survive your childhood no longer work. Now you have a choice. You can cut off the pain, or you can choose to feel it. But I must warn you, if you cut out the bad, you’ll also cut out the good. You can’t cut at one end without cutting at the other. If you don’t feel the bad, you won’t feel the good either.”
Without taking his eyes off me, he paused and let his words settle in.
I sat silently for several seconds pondering my decision.
All my life, I’d been in pursuit of joy. I relished the simplest pleasures – My children performing in a school play. Overhearing our young daughter read her little brother a book, using the same inflections as me. Seeing my children curled up on either side of their father, watching TV. The hours of laughter at the dinner table.
And what about all those unexpected moments? The ones that catch you off guard, that years later, still send warmth through you.
A chill came over me at the thought of missing those tender moments.
“Well then,” I responded. “I’ll just have to feel the bad because I want it all.”
Now, twenty some years later, I better understand my therapists wisdom. I see how easy it is to build walls around our hearts to shield us from the pain of sometimes our own bad decisions. And how that padding can become a large barrier between us and those we love.
I’m not sure I’ll ever understand the purpose of pain. But I know I must feel it. Not just mine but yours as well. I know intrinsically, it’s the narrow path to a rich life. One that’s lived in spite of its circumstances.
So as we begin this holy season, I encourage you to pick up someone else’s burden. Maybe you need to make a donation, or participate in an act of service. Maybe you need to just spend time with a friend. Whatever it is, I challenge you to hold it, and feel it.
Then when you kneel at the manger, share it with Him. He’ll be glad to help you carry it.
From this side of the fence to yours
#wearethestarryeyed
Eradicate the Counterfeit Life
Losing. Grieving. Mourning. Loving. Living.
A topnotch WordPress.com site
Just another WordPress.com site
Life's Lessons Learned
Slipstream 