wimpy? not her - me.

edited note ** i wrote this the third week of may and never posted it, don't know why, so enjoy now :)

i am wimpy. plus i like to complain which in hindsight makes me seem even more wimpy. i always seem to have something that is wrong with me. either something that's not quite working right, my back, my heart, my skin... or I am in pain. being in pain is pretty common and some days I live with it and others I complain.

my sister, she's not a complainer. she dives into the problem and straight through out the other side, busting apart the problem standing in her way. she doesn't walk through pain, she sprints.

my sister and i are so different. this weekend my grandmother commented to me that she was so glad that my sister and i were so close since we had nothing in common. i don't think that's a compliment, to either of us. and i don't really agree with that statement either.

my sister is intelligent, she's deligent and she's driven. she loves learning and she thrives on competition. she's also the funniest person I know.

and i adore her.

now people in my life may not think this, because my sis and i haven't always been the best of friends. we fight, bicker and often do not get along. but when push comes to shove she's my little sister who completes me in a way that only a little sister can.

this weekend she graduated college with honors. and i was proud of her, proud of that fact, proud that she's beautiful, that she has a teacher who she adores and learned so much from. proud of the fact that she took several times to stop and thank me and my mom and everyone else for all that we were doing for her. proud of her as she walked straight and proud as well as very blonde across that stage. proud of who she is and where she's going in life. the things she knows astounds me, the things that make her passionate and light her up - they completely boggle my mind.

my little sister, was, is and will forever be beautiful, smart and MY little sister who has my heart.

we're alike, you just have to know us well. :)

saturdays

as I sit in this saturday class and look outside at the sunshine after a week of rain, it's hard to pay attention to the debate of if i agree with physician-assisted suicide. because what I feel is not liked in this classroom. i've learned more about christian narrow mindedness these past two years sitting in this classroom than i ever thought i would. 

when it comes to this topic, i have flashbacks. i'm in a bunk bed in a home of my parent's friends, the light is shining in the hall, my mom leans over and kisses me good night. she tells me she and my dad are going to the hospital to see Abby again. and that nellie and i will go with them tomorrow to see her again. She says not to worry, Janie is in the other room and we're safe. I roll over and say good night to my little sister. And then i think of that little car seat in the back seat of the car. it's got this little plastic yellow covering with flowers on it. mom had covered it with a soft dark blue slip cover so that the sticky yellow plastic didn't show. i thought it smelled funny and commented to my mother abut that. she said that both nellie and i had ridden in it, so it was good enough for abby. 

then mom asked me to help pick out a cute coming home outfit for Abby, and nellie and i thought hard about what we wanted our new little baby sister to wear home. i can't remember the outfit, I just remember the weight my mom seemed to carry around with her.  

i was so excited when i got up the next morning and went out to see my parents. I asked early on when are we going to see Abby? It was then that I noticed the atmosphere in the room, it was then that i took that step back and asked what's wrong, what's going on?

We let Abby go last night, she's with Jesus now. is that how they told me? i have no idea, i can't even remember. all i remember is the anger - you said we'd get to see her again! you said we'd see her again! we didn't get to see her again! why would you tell me i got to see her again and then let her go! why would you do that? when i think back to that moment, I'll be honest, not all that anger is gone. i still wonder at how they decided that night instead of the next day.

It was done, the rest is mainly a blur. I remember a neighbor saying she was sorry i wasn't a big sister anymore. I remember seeing another neighbor at the memorial in a dress. I remember watching my dad cry while he read at her memorial. i also remember going to every VBS held that summer in the city of bellingham. I remember watching my mother cry everyday and all day long. and i remember walking back to the swings in my yard and having Connie say, just think of it this way, you got to play here on earth and you'll get to tell her all about it and when you get to heaven she'll get to tell you all about playing up there.

Does she look down at me? Does she know I love her, that I think of her? Does she know that she's a vital part of our family even when we don't say it? Does she know I'll grieve for her the rest of my life? My little dark haired sister who had such a little time here. 

this topic of "pulling the plug" of letting someone go when you know that their life may not be worth living. it hits close to home. did my parents make the right choice? did they really have a choice? i want out of this classroom with this judgement, i'm barely holding back the tears. 

I miss you Abby.

cowboy

the rolling hills spread out before you. the grass sways - there are no houses in sight, it's just you and the land. and of course your super cute house, with drop dead gorgeous hubby, cute kids, high speed Internet and all the money you could ever need.
that's what i think of when i dream about being a ranchers wife, not of all the work or the reality of what that life would entail. because I read pioneer woman - she's pretty wonderful! and her in the middle of no where experience is not the norm. it's pretty fairy tale, at least the part she shares with her blog readers. i love her though.
my mom is convinced that i wouldn't like solitary life - um i would. i dream of having my own space, of having a large yard - and not living in a development. where miss can run and run (and come back).
I've been thinking about that space a lot lately and I've been thinking about how cowboys (okay i know that's not actually their term) brand their animals. I want my own brand. I've even looked into getting a one made, they are expensive. so then i tried to think of how to could make one. yeah right, I'm not that skilled.
you know why i want a brand? because i want to do an heart project. i'm not an artist. but lately i've been pretending. i've been trying desperately to process the crap in my life. to process once again the fact that i have had heart surgery - yes i know you are all tired of hearing about it. but i'm trying once again to move through this pain that isn't leaving, it's still there. you think it's gone, but it's not. there's still lessons to learn, there's still things I'm growing in and from. and you know what? i don't think those will ever stop. so brace yourselves people, it's my story and it's my life so just deal with it.
and that's why i need a brand. i want to burn something into paper. i want the statement those singed edges will make, i want to see the burns, the scar it will leave behind. i want to make a statement with this "art". i want to use it to grow and heal - try break up that scar tissue that's grown hard.

you have a scar that's hardened? try and massage it - does it hurt? mine do - i want them to, i want to push as hard as i can so that I can be that person I'm being called to be.

screaming

there's a beast crawling around in my chest. his nails are ripping through my being - he's screaming at me to be let out. his fiery breath sears my soul. and i want to rip my chest open to let him out. i don't want him inside me - he's yucky and gross. i want to shower and scrub and scrub until i'm raw, maybe then he'll be gone.

"let me out, you know you want to"

"let me free, you can't hold me in here any longer"

"come one just do it"

"whose it gonna hurt?"

alone in the silence of my room i scream. "RAPE!"

"RAPE." the words tear out of my throat.

"RAPE. SHE WAS RAPED." I scream out loud.

"It's not fair, why her?" I whisper.

The words rip through me. The tears fall. My body is shaking and quivering. goosebumps stand out all over my arms, shivers of cold slither over my body. No one but me has heard my scream - i've let the demon out.

It doesn't help. It's the same. It's not freeing, there was no one there to have their heart break with me. There's no one there to hold me as i scream for my friend. He still crawls around inside me. one more pain i'll hold for a friend. One more hurt that can never be let out.

that root of her pain, the depth of her tears are rooted in my breast. i'll carry it for her, i'll slowly walk beside her as we dig deep and extract that deep strangling root, we'll dig in and pry that demons grasping fingers out of her heart, out of her soul. she'll be changed forever, she'll always carry a scar - that won't just disappear as those demons fiery hands have branded her. but the growing root of bitterness and of pain, we with Christ's help - will be banished.

a friend cries in pain? their tears stream down my face.
someone calls a friend a nasty name? it sticks in my belly.

i'll walk this with her. i'll stand upright and shoulder this.

but at home, in the silence i'll curl up and scream.