Today was a little tough.
Two things that really pull at my heart strings: hearing and seeing my granddaughter cry and hearing and seeing my mother cry.
I went to pick up mom to take her to a dentist appointment and spent the day which was kind of emotional for her. (Hope you don't mind my sharing, mom, but your stories are my stories... they teach me. Thank you for them.) Throughout the afternoon, several things happened. At the dental office, she picked up a newspaper and saw a story about a young man who had been killed in Afghanistan, a former Cornelius firefighter. She was reading, started quietly sobbing, tapped me on the shoulder and showed me the story. Sometimes I don't demonstrate a lot of patience. After all, I was busy playing "Words With Friends" with my sister and didn't want disrupted. Lame, I know. I kind of dismissed mom, saying, "You need to stop reading the news if it upsets you so much." And she quietly responded that the story she read was about a boy she had taught and loved when he was a first grader. Right at that moment the dentist walked in to take her and I was left sitting there, feeling like a complete heel. The rest of the afternoon, little things pulled tears from her eyes and by this evening, I experienced my granddaughter on the other end of the phone, crying, telling me she wanted me to come home.
Tug at the heart. Tug at the heart.
In the midst of it all, I got to spend some time alone with my stepdad. Always wise. Always surprising me with what he quietly offers and puts before me to think about. I know a lot about him, but so often I find myself realizing I really don't know him that well. Today was no exception.
He's been sober close to twenty years. Pretty amazing feat considering his cultural heritage/background/genetics and his susceptibility to alcoholism. (Navajo) He has touched on a few stories surrounding the time of his life when he chose to make a drastic change, but has never really uncovered specific details. Today he shared his story, humbly and with a powerful message attached, just like his other stories he has given.
He wanted to stop drinking. And couldn't. He got to a point in his life where he saw himself becoming just like his dad who apparently left an impact and some "imprints" on him emotionally and physically while growing up. He realized he was going down the same road and he wanted to turn himself around but came face to face with the fact that he couldn't even go one week. Feeling extremely frustrated and defeated, he reached a point where all he could do was to "give up". And he said that was the moment when surrender took over. He completely surrendered and accepted the fact that he couldn't do it alone. He needed help. He searched, found support, found "answers", then ended up searching and finding something different, something that met him where he needed to be met. A friend who took him under his wing. A friend who had been through a similar trial, walked similar footsteps on the road to recovery. I don't have the ability to capture my stepdad's eyes. The look on his face as he spoke the words to me today.
In his soft spoken way, he once again gave me something of himself to help support my life, all of our family's life as a whole. He reminded me how powerful is the moment when we get out of our own way, when we fall or falter to the place where all that is left is to step aside and let something greater take over and take charge, entering in such a way that new doors and new ways to see become clear. Along with the surrendering comes a letting go of distrust, a letting go of failures and disappointments, expectations and "woulda, shoulda, coulda's". A detachment that sometimes feels like a death... but a death where you eventually find yourself rising from the ashes and becoming new.
I look back over my day and I'm thankful for the little girl tears. The big girl tears. And for the love they represent. I am thankful for the look in my stepdad's face where I found reassurance that it's ok for all of us to relax into what lies ahead... That it's ok for us to allow rather than try to control things that cannot be controlled.
I see how fragile my mom seems. I hear how fragile my granddaughter seems. I see how vulnerable my stepdad seems. But I know with certainty that underneath it all, they each have this magnificent warrior's heart that will keep leading the way for us all.
When all is said and done, when all of our hardest moments are conquered, love - plain and simple - is all that matters in the end.
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