Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Just standing

Saying goodbye is never easy. I won't say "sometimes" or mention "even when", because it plainly stings all around. There's not even a sting in the sense that you can disinfect the wound the goodbye leaves you with and put a band-aid on it, look at it and flippantly mention to yourself: "How silly".
Some goodbyes are deep. 
Some goodbyes leave a pain deeper than you can imagine because you were never prepared for it. 
Can anything prepare you for a goodbye? Someone should write a book about that, I'd like to read it. 

There's a temptation to look in the mirror and blame everything on myself. It's such a complete me thing to do. It's what I've always done. But in this particular goodbye, I don't find myself doing that because I know so well that I exhausted every effort and pushed towards every possibility with everything I had. This is a goodbye that wasn't my fault. This was a goodbye that was healthy for me, but terribly numbing and excruciating. Flat out lies. Straight up apathy. More tears than I'd like to mention, and more pain then reasonable. 
I'm done with lies. 
A good friend once described it to me as someone stabbing you with a pencil (roll with me here) and then taking out the pencil. They can say sorry and apologize, I can have mercy and forgiveness, but in the end the hole where the pencil punctured me will still be there. The only true remedy is time, something I completely detest. 

When you're hurting you don't want to see the better. You don't want to hear the better. You don't want to recognize the better. 
When you're lying on the ground in the parking lot with the car behind you and the small, grey rocks underneath you, crying and trying to fathom how much pain you can be in, you don't want the words "It's for the best" coming out of anyone's mouth. No. 
You want a hand on your shoulder. A hand of someone you trust. Someone you know has a genuine love for you and concern for your best interest and wants nothing more than for you to succeed. I find that person to be Jesus above all else. I knew He was right there, and it was hard for me to see through the pain in order to understand it but He was there. And as I laid there crying, the phone up to my ear and a purse underneath my head, rolled up in a ball trying to hold myself together, someone said over and over how much Jesus loved me and how I was beautiful to Him. That helped.
You want friends to gather around you. I have the best friends in the universe, I really do. I'm no longer this shut off person who can't communicate her feelings and get stuck up in the mess that is my innermost being. I can communicate now. I know my friends will back me up no matter what. 

I am beautiful. I am chosen by God to do things that I don't even understand. He has a plan for me. 
I'm in pain, but He has a plan. 
I don't understand, but He's right here with me. 
I'm confused, but He is my clarity. 
I'm exhausted, but He is rest. 
I'm emotional, but He is comfort. 
I overreact and that doesn't matter to Him. 
I let stress overwhelm me too often, but He cries for me to come to Him. Again.
I hurt. He knows. 

I know He knows.

Saying goodbye isn't easy, friends. Not at all. I'm just standing. 

"Why is it — the faster you attempt to heal from something painful, the more frequently it tends to haunt you? When will the ghosts under the stairs give up and go home? Why can’t I give them five bucks and the car keys and tell them to take the night off? If anyone knows the answer to these questions, please call me and we’ll discuss the whole thing over bowls of crunchy diamonds drenched in skim milk... Perhaps THIS, dear friends, is the hardest part of saying goodbye to someone; knowing you MUST move on even though every fiber of your being screams at you to obey your instincts to cling for dear life. Maybe that’s why the mountaineer must grit his teeth, dig in his claws and continue the climb, no matter the cost, no matter the odds, no matter the price. Every aching muscle screams at him to give up and go home but he MUST be strong, resilient, resolved and steadfast. It’s funny how the word 'integrity' means nothing until you stare Anguish in the face and tell her sister Agony to beat it...but of course, it goes without saying that my strength is not my own, for I’ve been given far more grace than I deserve. Despite such a daunting task, I rest assured because I know I am not climbing alone, and that’s a heartening thought." 

If anyone ever gets me a date with Adam Young, I will not decline. 

( Photos in this post are taken by my brother, Isaiah Beiser. FYI: )

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