Lay it Down

Back when my three children were all in junior high and high school at the same time, I always had mixed emotions when school conferences came around twice each year. You see, unless I used vacation time, I had to go straight from work to their schools and try to speak with 18 or 21 teachers during the two evenings that conferences were scheduled. While it was awesome to hear the teachers tell me how smart my kids were and how well they were doing in school, I was always exhausted by the time I was done. But every year, I went to those parent teacher conferences ... every year, I went to those conferences because I loved my children and was determined to do my part to support them in receiving a good education.

Yesterday I sat between my daughter Meghann and my son Brad, and together we watched Matt as he received his Ph.D. ... his Doctor of Philosophy in Human Ecology. I wondered what thoughts were running through Brad and Meghann's minds as they watched their brother, if they were remembering times from their childhood or if they were contemplating the future. For some reason, I couldn't help but think about school conferences from when the three of them were young, about the teachers who had impacted my children's lives, about the deep love Matt has for learning, about the fact that Matt will soon be teaching students of his own in Canada.

The ceremony lasted a little over two hours, and after snapping a few pictures, we headed to Matt and Becca's apartment. They had decided a month or so ago that they wanted to have a cookout at their place to celebrate his graduation, and Matt had asked if my kiddos and I, along with Becca's parents, would hustle over to help get everything ready before their guests arrived. I should probably back up a bit and tell you that I had spent a good part of the night before and that morning throwing up, not because I was ill, but because I was nervous and anxious. My ex-husband, his girlfriend and his parents had come in from out of town to attend the ceremony and planned to attend the cookout as well. I'm not going to give details about my marriage ... I've said that before ... but in the spirit of being open, honest, real and transparent ... suffice it to say that not only did we have a bad marriage, anytime we've been forced to attend events together such as graduations or weddings, you could cut the tension between us with a knife ... a dull knife, in fact. It's one thing to experience that from a distance across a crowded reception hall or university arena, it's another thing altogether to experience it in the close quarters of a back yard or small apartment.

I've come to realize in the last few weeks that tension for me is no longer about anger or hurt, though it was in the early years after our divorce. The tension that exists for me now is about fear ... plain old unmitigated fear. So last night as I was sitting on the patio eating, I drew in a deep breath when I saw them walk through the gate ... and I thought, "Oh boy, here we go." My heart began to pound, and I felt goosebumps rise on my arms. And then, something happened ... all of a sudden, I realized that I wasn't afraid. Before I knew it, I stood up, put my plate down on my chair, and walked over to my former in-laws. I hugged and kissed them, and told them it was good to see them. I extended my hand to my ex-husband's girlfriend and introduced myself. And then ... then I extended my hand to my ex and said, "Hi ... how are you? I'm so very proud of our son today." Now before you think that the rest of the evening was perfect and filled with uplifting conversation between the two of us ... I said I wasn't afraid anymore, I didn't say that I suddenly became a saint. He and I didn't talk again until I was leaving and I went over and said goodbye to him. I did, however, spend most of my time at the cookout chatting with my ex in-laws ... and it was good, relaxed and tension free.

Yesterday was about Matt, all about Matt, and God in His infinite mercy chose to remove the fear and tension from my heart and replace it with grace. As I drove home alone after dropping Brad and Shelby off at his house, I couldn't help but recall the words of my doctor ... "You can't experience the kind of deep depression that you have and not be changed. It's impossible for it not to change you ... you will never be the same person again ... that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger, you know. You will be a stronger, more honest, more real person than you have ever been before. It will change you, Terrie, it will." It scares me more than a little, you know ... it scares me as to what those changes will be, and it scares me as to the pain that may accompany them. But last night ... last night, God helped me to lay down one enormous bag of fear, and I know in the deepest part of my soul that I won't be picking it up again. Remember my last post about baby steps? Just so you know, I'm still terrified of storms and airplanes and grass ... baby steps, friends ... baby steps ... baby steps ... baby steps.

God is good ... God is good ... all the time ... He is good.