Renewal

     I've never been good at New Years Resolutions. In fact, several years ago I stopped making them at all because I knew I wouldn't follow through and then I would feel bad about not following through. So it was easier to just not make them at all! Last year, I had heard of people choosing one word to claim for the upcoming year. One word, I could handle one little word! 

   At this point last year, Stephen was starting a new job, I was still loving my job, the girls were growing and happy. We had done some grief work and were slowly sorting through it. It felt like we were in a season of renewal. RENEWAL! I happily claimed renewal as my word for 2014. I wrote it in several places around the house so I would see it and be reminded of it. I prayed it. "Thank you Lord for bringing us to this season of RENEWAL! Please continue to renew our family, our marriage, our relationships, our lives."

   Isn't it interesting how we, in our "infinite" wisdom feel that we are experiencing our present and we know about our past, so we have a pretty clear idea of our future?  One of my favorite verses my entire life has been Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a good future."  For years I read this, prayed it and recited it focusing on the word PLANS. 2014 helped me to focus more clearly on the most important word. 

I. I know the plans I have...

     And boy did I learn that. 2014 did bring renewal in a mighty way. But it didn't bring renewal in the way I had in my mind. No, it brought renewal in a long broken way. 2014 was the year that broke a man, broke our marriage and almost broke our family. At the end of April, we were broken to a point we had never been before. Hearts were broken, our life was broken, and it didn't look like it would go back together very well. But here is where God spoke the words "I know the plans I have for the Links". All we had to do was trust and follow him. We picked our broken selves up from the pile of rubble we were in and started trusting Him one day at a time. One LONG, SLOW day at a time. One HARD, HEARTBROKEN day at a time. One FEAR FILLED day at a time. One day turned into two and then three and four. Every day got a little easier in its own way, but daily we were reminded of how broken our lives were, and how broken we were. But I sit here today, with broken pieces in my heart, and declare that renewal has come to the Link family! It wasn't pretty, it wasn't on our time or how we expected it, but it has come and we could not be more grateful! We continue following and trusting Him, one day a time, knowing that HE knows the plans HE has for us. Thank you Lord for your perfect, broken, ugly, hard, renewal plan. 

Feelings STINK

   I have not been a feelings person for a long time.  The truth is the bad ones hurt too bad and the good ones weren't enough to balance so I shut them off.  I "numbed" for years before my Dad was even diagnosed.  I think that most people have a fun numbing go to, shopping, drinking, eating… not me, I just turn the feelings off without anything to replace them with.  But I did this completely unknowingly.  I had no idea, I just knew that I didn't feel.  I thought that I was keeping myself in control during a period of time that was out of control.  The day Dad was diagnosed, I didn't cry, I immediately went into solution mode.  Let's make a plan, what do we need to do… and I stayed in that mode for almost the entire 6 months he was sick.  
     The day they moved him to the PICU was the only day out of the whole time that I cried.  I remember it like it was yesterday.  It was the day before my sweet friend Julie's wedding.  I had the honor of being asked to read at her wedding and was really looking forward to celebrating with her and Chris at their rehearsal dinner that night.  I was working in the basement and my sister called to say that his blood pressure had gotten worse and they were moving him.  I asked how he was handling it and she said "he is scared."  Those three words did me in.  I was hysterical imagining the man who had protected me from the boogie man and all of the bad in the world being scared.  I remember laying on the floor of the basement and crying out to God to help him to not be scared.  "Just let him feel your presence, let him feel your peace.  PLEASE GOD don't let him feel scared"  And the bottom line was, I was scared too.  Scared because I didn't want to lose my Dad.  Scared because I couldn't imagine life without him.  Scared because of the unknown about his condition.  Scared.  The next 2 weeks were long and scary, but we thought he was improving.  Then the day after Father's day came and he got very sick.  This was the last time we would talk to him, the last time he would smile at us, the last time we saw him alive.  But I didn't feel scared, I didn't feel anything.  The feelings had been so intense the last time, that I eliminated them.  We were watching when he passed and I didn't cry.  I remember seeing my Mom cry and my sister cry, but I couldn't cry.  I couldn't feel it.  We made it through that day and the next few and I still didn't cry.  The funeral came, I didn't cry.  I wasn't trying to be strong or trying to be in control.  I couldn't feel it.  I had done such a good job shoving those stupid feelings so far down that I didn't feel them.  And I certainly didn't WANT to feel them.  So they stayed gone for the next several years.  Sometimes I would feel sad or lonely, but I wouldn't let it stick around for long.  
     It wasn't until the last year that I realized that I was and had been numbing.  And the worst part about realizing this is learning that when you numb the bad, you numb the good.  So not only had I been not feeling all of the bad, I had missed out on opportunities to feel joy.  Fun. Peace. Happiness. Contentment.  All missed.  I mean I wasn't a total bump on a log and most people around me probably didn't even notice, and let's be honest, I hid it well because that's what I do.  But I missed those opportunities.  And I missed opportunities for grieving and growth because I couldn't handle feeling.   

So I decided that it had to stop.  I had to stop numbing because I really want to feel the good!  I wanted to look at my girls and feel like my heart would explode.  And I think it was time to finally own the sad, scared, angry and lonely feelings from losing Dad.  It has been a daily thought, prayer and decision to STOP numbing.  And it has been amazing at times!  When I see Nora Kate smile her big toothy smile and say "Mommy!" I feel like my heart may burst with joy.  When I hear Olive singing in the other room at the top of her lungs in her sweet flat little voice, I feel happiness that I know is one of a kind.  But the bad ones, they stink.  OH HOW THEY STINK.  They bring a totally normal sunny day into a sad day so quickly.  But I am owning them.  I am feeling them.  To the point of crying multiple times in a day feeling them.  To the point of sharing them with a few close friends feeling them.  Owning those feelings and admitting they are mine has been a weird experience, but one that is helping me to grow for sure.  The growth that I am most proud of though is when I can feel myself start to numb and making the choice to not.  That's progress.  Not perfect progress, but progress and I will take it...

The First Big Crash

We have experienced several days where "our world came crashing down around us".  Today marks 7 years since the first big crash happened.  

Today was the day that our world crashed.
Today was the day that evil took over our lives.
Today was the day that changed the shape of our family forever.
Today was the day that stole a grandparent from our kids.
Today was the day that our family became a front page headline.
Today was the day that a part of Stephen's soul died.
Today was the day that we will never recover from.
BUT, 
Today was also the day that we felt support like we have never known.
Today was also the day that we experienced love without boundaries.
Today was also the day that we became a part of our church even though we didn't know it at the time. 
Today was also the day that Tami, Grandma Bishop and Sheila got to walk on streets of gold and run into God's waiting arms! 
Today was the day of the first crash.

Seven years ago today, Stephen's mom Tami, His grandmother, Letannah and his aunt Sheila were all inside his parent's home in Norman.  Tami had gone to pick up her brother Bill so that her sister Sheila could take him to Shawnee to see their mom.  When she picked him up, she knew immediately he was in no state to go to their Mom's.  She drove him to her house, had him wait on the porch and asked Brent, her husband to help settle him down so she could take him home.  Stephen pulled in to the property around this time and drove to the back to start working.  

In the next few minutes, the crash began.   Bill got into the house and found a shot gun and ammunition in an upstairs closet.  He then shot and killed his two sisters and a sweet lady he had known most of his life.  He then attempted to turn the gun on Brent, his brother in law, but it jammed.  Brent was able to wrestle it away and incapacitate him.  He yelled out the back door for Stephen to help.  Stephen came into the house to try to help save his mom and grandmother, but it was too late.  They had already joined the angels.  

The following moments, days, weeks and months are really a blur.  A blur of people, funerals, police interviews, lots of food and an overwhelming sense of uncertainty and fear like we had never known.  Looking back over the last 7 years, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the people who truly were the hands and feet of Jesus to us and who provided for us what we didn't even know we needed.  I am also overwhelmed by the thought that even in our darkest hour, the first crash, God held us in the palm of his hand.  It certainly didn't feel like it in the middle of it, but looking back we know and can see his hand of protection and guidance.  

This crash in our world means that we will forever be rebuilding and recovering from what happened and the things that followed.  Little by little and piece by piece, slowly building our life.  

Perfection is Dead

Perfectionism is something that I believe I was born with.  Between being the first born and being my father's daughter, it was inevitable that it would be a part of me.  I can remember thinking this was a great thing for a long time and carrying the title with pride.

And then I realized that for me, perfectionism was very dangerous. 
It was dangerous for 3 main reasons:
1. It distorted my view of grace.
2. It eliminated my need for God.
3. It made everyday situations very stressful. 

I was lucky to be raised in a hard working Christian home where we attended church regularly.  My parents were strict and I fell in line.  At some point growing up I heard "if you are a Christian, you have to be perfect".  I don't think anyone actually said this out loud to me, but it is what I internalized.  I totally missed the idea of grace.  I was saved in 4th grade and remember it vividly.  I also remember then taking on a new level of perfectionism.  If I was to be a good example, I couldn't make mistakes.  I remember thinking and believing that grace was something that was reserved for us before we were saved and it was a one time gift.

WHAT?? A one time gift?  So I could never mess up again...the pressure of this was stifling!  But I did my best to not disappoint anyone, including God.  FOR YEARS

Perfectionism eliminated my need for God.  If I can do everything perfect, then really I have no reason to ask for help.  I will just coast along on my own and be "perfect".  God wants for his children to need him.  If I am running around being "perfect" then I am not relying on him like I need to!  Daily he wants to walk hand and hand with us and provide guidance, but when I was in this place, I didn't walk hand in hand at all.  I tried to do it myself.   God needs me to need him.  He wants me to be in daily communion with him, but when I am off being "perfect", I turn to just myself for help and not him.  So in my grand attempt to be "perfect" and to not disappoint him, I am disappointing him daily by not allowing him to be GOD.  

Perfectionism made everyday situations very stressful.  In fact, it made every moment of every day stressful.  Stephen has this tone of voice he uses when I am in my perfect high stress mode and I can always tell that I am making it tense.  But my want and desire for things to be "perfect" distorts my view and appreciation for things.  The best example of this is something I have shared before with a lot of people...Olive's 3rd Halloween.  I worked and worked on a Buddy the Elf costume for her to wear and it was perfectly adorable.  But she hated it.  But in my perfect "view" of Halloween, she wore the costume and we all had a great time.  We showed up to our church fall festival with the Buddy costume in hand.  I attempted to put it on her in the parking lot and she FREAKED OUT.  Like not just a little freak out, the kind that people thought I was killing her in the parking lot freak out.  SCREAMING, CRYING, laying on the GROUND trying to get away from me.  In pure disgust, I look at Stephen and say "can you help me?"  He opens the trunk of the car and pulls out her Ming Ming duckling costume from the year before that she still wears almost daily around the house.  "Just let her be Ming Ming" he said.    Rage filled my body.  He wanted to ruin MY PERFECT Halloween by letting her wear last year's costume.  And guess what?  She jumped up with a smile and ran to the stupid Ming Ming costume.  He put it on her and we went in.  She was happy and adorable, Stephen was relieved and I was furious.  I didn't enjoy the night at all.  I wasted precious time with my Ming Ming duckling because I was mad she wasn't in the costume I wanted her in.  How sad for all of us.  
This is an extreme example, but I put this kind of pressure on everyday situations too and it makes dealing with me hard.  I know it does.  Stephen has told me :) 

Thankfully I have been able to recognize the harm that perfectionism causes not only me, but those around me.  I fight with it daily.  I do want things to be a certain way, and when it isn't that way, I get instantly frustrated.  I am having to work on appreciating the moment that I am in for what it is.  UGH!! I don't want to appreciate a messed up schedule or a messy floor ten minutes after I cleaned it.  So I have to intentionally focus on appreciating that the reason it is messy is because my girls are having fun.   I like to call myself a "recovering perfectionist" because I truly feel like this is something that I have to work to overcome.  And I will, slowly, with daily work on gratitude and appreciation.  But the best part of fighting this battle against perfectionism is that I have a new view of grace and I know that when I mess up every single day, God smiles and says "it's okay, I can help you."  Just like my Dad would have done.  (Dad's voice would probably have more irritation in it than God's but you get the point)   And I can fully rely on God to help me.  Not just HELP me, but handle it and let me relax a little.  I am so thankful for a God who loves us despite our "perfection" and mistakes and nonsense! 

I Survived...

As of today, I have officially survived the most challenging year of my life. Not the most traumatic or the most heartbreaking, but definitely the most challenging.  In the past year I have been stretched further than I thought I could be.  I have felt hurt deeper than I imagined possible.  I have made decisions, I never imagined having to make.  I have lost relationships that I never imagined losing.  But through prayer, the support of an amazing village of friends, prayer, therapy, prayer, reading, prayer, art journaling and an insane amount of self reflection, I can say I have SURVIVED.   Survived, not thrived, but I know that will come in good time. I have learned several important things, but here are 6 that I think are worth sharing for now.

1. When a member of your family is in recovery, your entire family is in recovery.  It is a daily sacrifice for every single member of the family (even the dog) to make it work.  I am thankful our family has figured out a fairly decent routine in order to accomplish the task of Daddy going to meetings every night.  It is worth it.  It isn't easy, but it is worth it.

2. When you numb the bad, you numb the good.  Oh the numbing!  Brene' Brown writes about this in her book "The Gifts of Imperfection" and man I felt like she wrote this whole chapter just for me!  I am the QUEEN of numbing.  I am so good at it, I don't even notice I am doing it.  I don't even have a go to numbing technique, I can just do it as a part of my normal life and routine.  This has been one of the hardest things for me to accept and attempt to change.  It is a daily issue and struggle for me.  But the joy that is felt when I am able to feel the good is so worth it.   Being able to look into Olive's sparkling brown eyes as she tells me a story about a caterpillar at recess and be excited just because she is excited is so worth it!  It is worth having to feel the constant dull ache of missing my Dad every moment of every day.  It is worth having to feel the uncertainty of not having control of what will happen.  But sometimes I forget that the joy is worth it and the numbing wins and it takes me months to get back to feeling.  Baby steps...

3. Vulnerability is a gift.  For a long time, I couldn't figure out why I wasn't able to open up and be real about what was REALLY going on with me.  This year, I have learned that I wasn't willing to be vulnerable.  This could have been for several reasons, but for me, it didn't feel safe.  It wasn't safe for me to open myself up to judgement from others.  It wasn't safe for me to make myself even more different by admitting what was really going on.  It wasn't safe.  It also wasn't safe for me to accept my imperfect self.  It wasn't safe to accept that there was something REALLY wrong about me and that I was REALLY hurting from all of the pain I was experiencing.  This year, I have found safety.  I have been able to work through the inability to be vulnerable and to face each relationship I have with a certain level of vulnerability due to self acceptance.   Brene Brown states “Because true belonging only happens when we present our authentic, imperfect selves to the world, our sense of belonging can never be greater than our level of self-acceptance." 
The person that I am now is not the person I expected to be "when I grew up", she is a much messier version of my expectation, but she is also a lot stronger than I ever expected.  The person that I am now is able to  "just be" and to not be as concerned with what others think.  She is able to be real. 

4. People will say catchy phrases like "it's okay, we all grieve differently"  and "you deal with it when you're ready"  but most of them are just saying it, unfortunately they don't mean it.  If you aren't on their timeline or aren't as far along in your grief as they expect you to be, they will let you know in a variety of ways.  They may not do this with mean intentions, they just don't have time to be on your journey anymore.  This has been a hard lesson for me.  I am the first to admit, I am a stifler of emotions, so the grief journey has taken a LONG time and I am still just at the beginning of the real work.  If you know someone who is grieving (even if they are grieving the loss of someone that passed 10 years ago) give them grace. Don't put expectations on them or their behavior, it's an unfair thing for both of you because you will both be disappointed. 

5.  STOP judging.  I am a judge.  I have tried so hard to think back and figure out where this little defense mechanism began.  I have early memories of doing it, so I know it has been my fall back for a LONG time.  If I can place judgement on you, then I don't have to feel bad about what is wrong with me.  Back to that self acceptance again.  UGH.  I do this all the time.  To everyone.  If I have come in contact with you, even in the grocery store line, you can bet I have placed judgement on you.  This is a terrible trait and something I have been working so hard to stop.  It starts with my motto of "Just Be".  I have to work daily to accept who I am so that I can walk up to you and just be happy to see you instead of casting judgement to cover my insecurities. 

6.  I usually don't know what I need.  Stephen gets so irritated with me because he will call on his way home and ask if we need anything.  I usually respond with "no thanks!"  Then the next morning I freak out because I can't make Olive's lunch because we are out of peanut butter.  He always reminds me, "I asked you if we needed anything".  But the truth is I don't know until I need it.  This is the same for me and what I need emotionally.  I don't know I need it until I need it.  I know this has been a frustrating thing for my warrior friends who have been through the mess with us.  They will say "call me if you need anything" but since I don't know what I need until I need it, this hasn't worked well.  The friends who just show up and call to say "hey I am in your driveway, let me in when you get the girls to bed" or the message from a friend that just says "what's going on?  I can feel something" or the friend who gives you a card with a gift card to your favorite restaurant inside because they know that even on your best day, cooking isn't your forte,  have been amazing.  I don't know what I need, so those who just show up have been an unbelievable blessing.  I would like to say this is something I am working on, identifying my needs in advance, but honestly it is at the bottom of the list.  I am very self aware, until it comes to specific needs!  

None of these lessons have come easily.  Most of them I have fought tooth and nail to not have to learn.  But slowly but surely, they are all making their way into my heart.  Some I still struggle to accept on a daily basis, but with lots of continued prayer and work I hope to not have to work so hard to accept them.