Re-Post of "Phases of the Moon"

I wrote and posted this blog around Christmas . . . and then later got chicken about it and took it down. A blogging friend of mine somewhat chastised me for taking this blog down. She reminded me that we must be honest—even when our guts are spilling out for all to see.  So now I've re-posting this gut-spilt blog. 
All of you (the one or two) who like guts, here ‘tis.



Brad, my 12-year younger brother,

My "baby" brother

and I are searching for our "new normal" 

regarding Thanksgiving

and Christmas holidays.



We live 10 hours apart.

He in Maryville, TN  (pronounced by the locals as “Mar-vul”)

and I in NLR, AR.



We used to meet in the middle—

the middle being HOME in Nashville, TN where we both grew up.

Our mom welcomed us at the door.

Her home cooking was one of her ways

to celebrate us coming home.

He and I loved visiting with each other when we converged upon Mom and home and good cookin'.

But one year after our mom died, we learned 
going home for the holidays will be no more.

Going home changed on Christmas night 2009 when our step-father said he just wasn't interest in doing the holidays with us anymore

now that our mom is gone.

He told my brother last year

the morning after Christmas—

“Now that your mother is gone,

there’s a new sheriff in town

and things are going to be different.”

And so without Brad and I doing reactionary things like

demonstrations on the front lawn

or tires being slit

or cherry bombs thrown

at my step-father's bedroom windows

or editorials being written up in the paper,

we quietly walked away. 

For me, finding a new normal doesn’t happen easily. Life as I ALWAYS knew it will now
NEVER be the same again.

Finding a new normal feels messy . . . emotional . . . fearful . . . lonely . . . hopeful . . .

feels like the phases of a moon becoming full.

Maybe that's the way it will be. Finding a new normal

may be like the new moon

going through its eight stages

on its way to becoming "whole."

Tonight there is an iridescent full moon out my window.

 It has a haze around it making it all that more mysterious and awesome this evening.

I guess finding a new normal

is like the first sliver of a moon.

Sliver by sliver, the moon adds throughout the month

until it’s complete, total, beautiful, whole. 

But it gets there

in stages,

in slivers,

in darkness,

with some nights clear,

some nights cloudy,

some nights full of rain,

some nights cold or humid or hot,

and some nights just right.

The moon teaches me my new normal

will probably mature through

progressive phases and stages
when times seem the darkest.

My and Brad’s new normal won’t come

fast,

instantly,

or always smoothly.

Finding and understanding our new normal

will be at times messy,

At times crazy,

At times a bad idea

At times a good idea

At times tiring

At times inspiring.

May the One who made the moon and all its stages guide and direct a sister and a brother as they grapple with the phases and stages of holidays, family time, sacrifice, allegiance,
forgiveness,
and love
in their new normal.

Amen.

*******

A Christmas Afterword . . .

Today is December 25, 8:30 AM. Instead of going to Maryville, TN, I stayed in Arkansas b/c of the snow and sleet that has now fallen up and down interstate 40E. It has been difficult walking through Christmas w/o family, but there have been life-giving blessings: dear friends calling and emailing to check on me (even one family insisting that I join them in Oklahoma for Christmas), going to the Christmas Eve service at my church, going to the home of the L's and their friends for supper afterwards, eating lunch on Christmas Eve with a 90-year-old friend, and, of course, having Zach the Cat with me (our first Christmas together where I didn't have to put him in "cat jail.")

The outpouring of love and care is healing, renewing, and has the touch of God in it all.

What about my step-father? An elderly friend from Nashville called me this morning and said, "I guess he did not invite you to the house for Christmas since you are not here this Christmas." He did not. He stuck to his guns. It is truly over regarding me going back to the house where my mom's things still decorate the place. 

Regarding my step-father, I am grateful for the absence of animosity in my heart. I am grateful that I do not entertain ways to "get back" at him. I am grateful for God's continued healing and guidance in my soul and heart. And I am grateful that he and I have had several meals together within the last year when I have been in Nashville to visit friends and my grandmother.

But my "anonymous writer" (see below) has a point which got my attention. I must admit, I do have room for more forgiveness in my heart towards my step-father. And I do have need for more hope, faith, and joy for my future.

I would have NEVER DREAMED I would have been sitting in front of my computer typing on my blog . . . alone . . . on Christmas morning. And so this Christmas, let the (additional) forgiveness, faithing, hoping and healing begin. Like Mary the mother of Jesus, may I have faith and trust in the Lord for all He has prepared and planned for my life. And may I give birth to Christ in my heart anew and afresh this Christmas and forever more. Amen.

Comment:

Anonymous said...



Oh, dear, it seems that this Christmas you and your brother have also found no room at the inn!

Even though it's not the kind of Christmas any of us would like, it seems that God is giving you a chance, by forgiving this man, to give birth to Christ in your heart, just as Mary bore Christ in her body that first Christmas day.

You have a chance to give a special gift to God this Christmas by forgiving this person. (And the more he has hurt you the greater the gift is to God.)

I am so sorry for your pain. I had a very similar kind of my own once. I will pray for you! Merry Christmas to you and your brother and may you have a blessed new year as well. Pax Christi!

December 25, 2010 12:45 AM