Tuesday, May 10, 2016

[Daring Greatly]

For a few months, close to a year now, ever since I decided to take a leave of absence from teaching, Heather has been hinting flat out telling me that I need to read a few books - Daring Greatly, Rising Strong, and Big Magic.

I don't like to be told what to do. ;)
So I resisted.

Until now.

Yesterday afternoon, knowing that I couldn't do much of anything since my back is still being super awesome, I went to the library and picked up Daring Greatly. I thought for sure it would be good and would give me something to do while I sit around recuperating, but questioned whether it would be that good. Like, do I really need to fork out ten bucks for a book on being brave?!



Came home, had dinner, and posted on Instagram and Facebook about my library choices. Immediately, friends started posting how much they adore Brene' Brown - how she just "gets it" - how "life changing" her books are. 

I was still skeptical.

Bedtime - Luke heated up the big heat pack for my back and I crawled into bed with this book (and a super awesome headlamp, but hey, ya gotta do what ya gotta do!) thinking I'd read a few pages before falling asleep...

56 pages in and I could have kept reading. The problem was - this was not my book. I couldn't write in it. I couldn't highlight things. I couldn't tag pages. 

I ordered my own copy this morning. :)

What's so great about this book? It's hard to pinpoint for me right now. There are phrases that jumped out so strongly. Paragraphs that spoke to my heart. 

Phrases like this one...


Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage.

Heather warned me to be prepared to feel all the feelings. She wasn't wrong.

I had tears. I smiled. I cringed. I was encouraged. I was scared. 

For a long time, I have felt that I needed to return to this blog - Kerry encouraged my return several months ago, but at that point, I was not ready. 

Now, I am. I'm ready to share more of our story. More of our healing process. 

To say that this isn't scary to me would be less than true. But I'm ready.

We get from a lot of people that we should be past this. That we should be happy all the time (which, really?! - is anyone ever happy all the time?!). That our grief timeline has closed.

Truth? You never get past something like this. 
Anyone who says they have is lying.

But how can you know that about us if we don't let you see it? How can you relate to us or to anyone who has had to bury a child if we don't share those parts of us that make us who we are now. We're different than we were before Kenton died. And yet, in some ways, we're the same.

Kenton is such a part of who we are as a family. He is our boy. Forever our boy. And missing him is something we will always feel. 

Some days that grief is like a sliver that only hurts when you pick at it. Some days, that grief is like a stubbed toe that is a dull ache. And some days, that grief is still blinding - hurting so badly that you can't catch your breath.

It's normal. 
We're not crazy. 
We're not focused on our grief. 

We are still living. We work, we play, we serve, we love. But that sadness is part of who we are.

And so, I'm back. You're welcome to stay. Pull up a chair and stay. Or, you're welcome to go. I won't be offended. Sometimes, the story being shared isn't a good fit for where we are in our lives. I get that. 

If you stay, please talk to me. Or don't. Maybe you're not in a place where you're ready to engage in conversation about any of this. Maybe you just need to see my openness for a while. And that's okay.

If you're ready to engage, please leave a comment, a question - let me know that you're here. What of our story touches you? What scares you? What makes you want to be better or stronger or more gentle?

This is our story. This is our life. 




10 comments:

Lisa Sparks said...

I was worried that I shouldn't have said anything to you about how every time I drive past the cemetery I look to see Kenton's grave. I love that you shared the wave with me and now smile every time I go past thinking of that. Because of Kenton, I am reminded to hug my kids everyday. Thank you for sharing your story with us.

Lisa Sparks said...
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Jill Thomas said...

Thank you for sharing Kenton and your family with us. I never met that strong, amazing kid, but I feel as though I have always known him. We were just in the beginning throes of our own cancer fight when Kenton won his, and it was so hard for me to hear of kids winning by what I thought then was a huge defeat. I was WRONG... Kenton WON that fight... and went on to win more battles in our ultimate, permanent home. Your family has given me so much strength, and inspiration, and hope. I Know that Kenton is with every single one of our kids as they fight... and I know that,no matter what, it is good. I grief for the hole left in your heart, and for the years of fun and laughter you will not have here on earth with that sweet boy... but I do not grief for Kenton. He is happy and doing God's work, and sharing his spirit with all of us. I love you, Deb... one of these days we will meet and share a big hug.

Megan Gibson said...

I LOVE all of your posts. You have such a gift with words and I hope you know how much you are adored and loved. I'm sure you don't know the magnitude of your inspiration of others - but you inspire me and keep me going. You are a tool in our Heavenly Father's plan and you help so many more than you realize. Love you friend!! Can't wait to keep reading/stalking/following you.

Kate Mo said...

Deb, I don't feel that I can reach the right words right now. I wish I could express how much you and your family touch me and inspire me. Thank you for being you, and keep writing. Reading your posts always makes my day.

Cheyenne Christensen said...
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Cheyenne Christensen said...

Thank your for sharing your Kenton with us! I was truly happy to see your post this morning!

DRainsdon said...

We might've been cousins raised together but this, the good, the bad and the books, kinda feels like us be adult cousins together since we don't see each other often. I'm prepared to laugh, cry and try making pretzels. Welcome back!

Cathy Peterson said...

I'm glad your back to blogging. I've missed your blog. You have the gift to express so courageously but with love. I love you for that!

Cathy Peterson said...

I'm glad your back to blogging. I've missed your blog. You have the gift to express so courageously but with love. I love you for that!