EMBRACE THE SUCK!

                                                            

"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair;  persecuted, but not abandoned;struck down, but not destroyed..."

Over two years ago, in August 2024, I got a phone call from my daughter that shook our world, threatening to tear it apart, so we circled the wagons and set up a perimeter defense. We picked up our belongings, our lives, and rearranged them into some semblance of normalcy when everyting around us screamed anything but normal. We prayed, we confided in friends, and counted ourselves fortunate that we had the resources, the wherewithal--okay, the money--to fund this huge life adjustment.

Night after night I cried out to the Lord, much like King David did, to hear my cry, to hear my daughter's cries, my granddaughter's cries, and to soothe them, to give them comfort, to give us wisdom and discernment in the face of something that made no fucking sense. Flew out to the state of Washington, stood by and watched the process as we hung on to every word said in the courtroom. Hopes were dashed, the verdict was pronounced, sentence levied, so again, we regrouped. That was May 2025. 

June 2025 found us purchasing a place to live near family to provide support through the ordeal, perhaps even counsel and comfort, and we settled into a routine that was anything but "routine," familiarizing ourselves with a new place, new climate, new culture. Each of us, our daughter and granddaughter most of all, put on a brave face and tried to resume life as it was before "that thing." Before our lives fell apart. Pretended to be the same person each of us used to be...but we weren't. 

As parents, we wanted to fix something we could not fix. As a wife, she yearned to understand what was incomprehensible and unexplainable. As a child, she tried to comprehend why her mom was always crying and why her dad could no longer videochat. As believers and children of God, we reached for Him, begged Him to make it stop, or at least to give us understanding and show us the light at the end of the damn tunnel. He did, for a time, but we would lose hope. Hope. Waiting. Deadlines. 

February, 2026 and our hope was renewed as he was released, but then dashed into pieces when that release involved him being over 400 miles away, unable to come back, as if he was in some sort of neverending purgatory. So the four of us--me, my husband, our daughter, and our granddaughter--picked up the yoke and pressed forward, and yes, we were hard pressed on every single side--up, down, sideways, and around. 

Then in May, we heard there was an end in sight, the powers that held our futures over our heads would meet in July, perhaps August, and a final decision would be made, for good or for bad, but it would be made and then, by God, we could pick up what was left of our broken lives and try to put it all back together. We were smart enought by now to not make any plans or to count on this actually coming true, but our hearts and spirits were lighter, and the time had healed much of the anger and bitterness.

July came. And went. WIth no action and no explanation. And it added yet another giant log to the fire through a huge pay discrepancy that brought to the surface all the angst, turmoil, and anger we thought had been buried. 

August came. And it, too, went, with a slightly firmer promise of "September 22."  So we plodded on.

September 18, a Friday. And now, here we are, with the aforementioned end to this hell less than 72 hours away, and yet again, we are just mere cogs in a giant wheel of idiocy, a system that could not care less what it does to family, to spirits, to children. Sorry, not sorry, they say. Perhaps October. Yeah right.

So now we wait, we pray, we joke, but not as much as we used to. I dream of my home in NC, the fall leaves, my former life in the mountains. I think of our daughter, who pours herself, every single inch of her being into childhood cancer awareness, even more so now with all this turmoil bubbling up under the surface, exploding into our faces at times. My heart hurts for all she has gone through, for the 'friends' who deserted her because she wasn't keeping her shit together like they thought she should.  I think of our granddaughter, who has changed schools, lost friends, and goes to sleep each night only to wake up at three or four in the morning, who reads incessantly, or plays games, or talks, anything to fill the void in her life that only an answer can fill.  My husband immerses himself in pickle ball and soccer and yardwork while I tutor kids with dyslexia. And we are somehow still breathing. I think of the person who brought this all raining down on our heads, and I hurt for him, pray for him, and hope that he can recover and renew.

I can no longer fall asleep before 2 am. I, too, am reading incessantly, like Sophie, building dyslexia lesson plans to keep my mind busy, joining a bible study, and writing letter after letter after unanswered letter. I hate this waiting. I hate not knowing. I hate people I love hurting. And yes, I know that God's timing is perfect, that He has a purpose in all things, that I will look back years from now and see that purpose. But those phrases that are thrown at us, to placate us, do nothing but make me want to scream from the top of my lungs, a paraphrase and my own version of that verse from 2 Corinthians:

We are hard pressed on every side, AND WE ARE CRUSHED, WE ARE perplexed, AND WE ARE in DESPAIR;  persecuted, AND WE FEEL ABANDONED;struck down, AND WE SENSE IMPENDING DESTRUCTION!

So if you see a negative post on social media, or meet me and I look like I have that "resting bitch" face on, or if I forget where I am supposed to be at some moment, realize that we are currently going through hell. Yes, we will get through it. But it is the going through part right now that sucks eggs.