Picking up Pieces

I have begun to pick up the pieces of my life.  Looking back over the last year, it is hard for me to believe that I have not written anything. But then its not so hard to believe.  Writing had become an outlet.  But then I got so clogged up that I couldn't get it out. There was too much.  There is always too much. It takes a certain amount of faith to bare the soul and let it out.  It takes faith to believe that writing about and sharing your daily struggles may help someone else that is also struggling. (And isn't that part of our mission on this Earth? To care for and help one another?) It takes faith to believe that you may add a small beacon of hope in an otherwise desolate world. It takes faith to bare the soul and not expect and experience a whiplash of criticism, harsh words, holier than thou attitudes, and degrading comments. It takes faith to tell of one's shortcomings and failures. It takes faith to be able to laugh and find humor in the worst of circumstances.  I had lost that faith. I don't know that I will ever fully get it back.

I thought losing my anchor - My Daddy - was the worst that could happen.   I thought that losing him would become my undoing.  I have been floating aimlessly with no real direction.  My Dad always managed to ground me and bring me back to what was really important. Without him, I have been lost.  I miss him with an ache that is always present. I have tried to drown that ache. I thought if I quit writing, quit talking, quit thinking that it would get better.  It hasn't.   My marriage, my family, my husband, my children have all suffered while I turned inward. I thought not acknowledging my feelings and my sense of abandonment would help.  It hasn't.  I thought that if I put up walls and pretended that all was well that things would get better.  They didn't.  I thought if I ignored what was crumbling around me that it would stop.  It didn't.  I thought that with enough passage of time that things somehow, someway would magically  improve.  They didn't.  I lost my faith and my belief that I could make it.  I don't know that I will ever fully get it back.

It all comes down to faith.  That is the core of my being.  Having faith.  But I have never been a passive have faith kinda gal.  I've always forced the issue.  Brought things to a head.  Made it happen.  Bulldozed right on through.  I finally figured out that no amount of hiding, drowning, ignoring, wishing it away, pretending it didn't exist,or running away was going to make all the problems and heartache disappear.  While having faith that in the end everything would indeed be OK, I knew that I had to face harsh reality head on, embrace the brokenness, and start to pick up the pieces. I had to accept and deal with shortcomings, my own and others.  I had to realize that I had a choice and it was a now or never kind of situation.  Too many precious souls were counting on me, needed me.

So I am picking up the pieces.  They won't all fit back exactly how they fell apart.  Some pieces will never fit again.  Some will fit better then ever. Some pieces will come together easily and others will take time and effort.  It is a daily journey. A daily choice. A daily struggle. A daily duty. A daily Joy.  A daily walk of Faith.