Jilly Brandon

When your kid is driving 40 hours back to his home base, and you keep texting him… but there is no answer.

The anxiety and mixed up prayer requests explode within your inner radar, and you find yourself begging for the Almighty to let your son arrive safely to his destination.

It’s the not knowing… the waiting.. the attempting to breathe when your air is being choked out of your lungs, and like a Mum… you fear the worst.

If he hasn’t called me by now then he is likely dead.. or worse.. wait.. what’s worse than being dead, that didn’t even make sense. You don’t care, because you just want to hear something.. anything.

Kids, no matter the age, do not even get the angst that their parents go through on their behalf.. they can’t, because if they did then there is no possible way that they would allow us to be tortured in such a manner.. unless.. they are knowingly putting their parents through the never before seen agony of the not knowing… which incidentally.. I deem to be the worst of the “in between” phase.

Wondering and agonizing over whether your prodigy is alive and kicking has to be one of the most tortuous spaces that the human soul can find themselves in.

There is always a story… a reason that they don’t contact their Mum and Dad. It doesn’t make any sense to us… but apparently… it does… to them… the little ingrates.

Waiting, and wondering, has to be the worst… truly..

I told my son this the other day, as I sat sipping coffee with him on the dock, at sunrise in the most incredible and celestial moments  imaginable. My worst nightmare, bar none, is if someone stole my child, and I never was able to know what had happened to him or her… just.. stop… because I can’t even possibly recover from that dark abyss.

How do parents go forward from these nightmares that are lived out twenty four hours a day?   I can’t even fathom… there is just no way..and yet they do…. Their perseverance and tenacious hope is inspiring.

I do think people have their limits.. that point.. where you just collapse… and unless somebody can come and physically pick you up, and carry you forward.. there is no moving.. until you know .

Even when the news is horrific, it’s just somehow better to know, than to be lost in the false hope, and torment of the what if?

Sitting upon my lap is the most adorable little Westie dog.. my Mum’s dog actually , and what a comfort he is.   I keep thinking that he was meant for somebody who needs ” kindness therapy.”  Turns out, that he is here in my life, for right now, just for me.  He is sharing his sweet little doting self, and lovingly lavishes his affection … it’s so wonderful.

How could I even miss the most obvious blessing?  But there it is… directly in front of me.. and I don’t see it, because I can’t claim it… I don’t feel worthy… what’s that all about?

Feeling worthy, and acknowledging that there is help both through family, and friends, but also professionally, when the road in front seems crooked and determined to turn you in circles is a relief.

Allowing the second person to be seated in your canoe when you are tired from dipping your paddle from side to side. Needing assistance steering through the rapids that have become your life takes trust. It is necessary at times to let another help you guide your watercraft.

It’s those moments of clarity when you feel held by the life of another, and you know most assuredly that they have your back, and that they are sticking with you even when things are uncomfortable, and messy.

We are all ” beautiful complicated brilliant messes,” in need of love and acceptance, no matter what age we are.

The part that is completely humbling to me is when a person trusts me with their internal stuff. I am in awe of that, and hope to never take that for granted ever again.

Learning from past relationships, and correcting the patterns that were not working right creates a growth that births hope for better choices, and deeper experiences moving forward.

Seeing your kids with their ” aha moments,” and watching them accept the consequences of their actions with grace, acceptance and dignity is inspirational to me.

I have been around people who will not learn, or accept failure, and it’s exhausting. When did we accept the kool-aid that tasted of the lie that failure was not a part of life? What a crock…

Acceptance of our current situation leads to growth. This is an epiphany each and every time, and seems to be an evolving phenomenon that life always has new lessons too bestow.

I’m grateful for each new day, and for the opportunity to do better, when I know better. To be able to walk alongside another hurting person with more clarity, because I understand more, makes the path traversed together abundantly brighter.

“The Community Center” should exist within the four corners of our heart, and when other humans, or four legged creatures come into your periphery, having the ability to invite them even closer can be a life changing experience.

When my path crosses with another traveller, and our souls connect, the result is phenomenal , and enriches my life, and hopefully theirs as well.

I was telling my one son this morning, and these are not my words, but from another.

“We can just control us, ”

We need ” to look after  our own side of the street.”

We can’t make people love us, or accept us. We can just accept, and try to be the best versions of ourselves, for ourselves.

It’s painful when another doesn’t accept your love, or share it, but it is survivable, you don’t think it ever will be…but it..is.

The lessons I have learned this past year make me feel as if my head is about to pop off, like the cork from the champagne bottle.

I would not have chosen a great many of these crooked, and treacherous pathways, and even when my compass seems to be finding another due north for itself…the next breath is all that I can press into.

Learning to change how I think, and navigate differently, does not come without heat, and pressure.

It’s so good to not know what comes next, because I suspect, I would crawl into a hole and hide… and yet possibly…

Learn something new.

Sump pumps, and well pumps and opening up the lid to your septic tank, now that’s a visual I won’t soon forget.

The septic tank inspector comes indoors to retrieve me, and give me a tutorial regarding the contents of the pit… do I really want to look into it?

Standing beside him, and trying to be careful to stand ” up wind,” I ask him if he gets used to the smell? He states… ” I don’t even smell it anymore.”

I get it.. you can get used to things you never thought you could… startling but true.

He explains how one side holds the ” solids,” and the other holds the “grey water.”

He then states “we don’t want floaters.”

Ewwwww

Both descriptives are something I could have done without, and yet I find myself intrigued about the cement wall between, that separates these two categories.

The concern was whether the ” solids” had breached the wall, and flowed into the other side during the flood earlier this Spring? He assured me that they hadn’t, because he says,

” see how clean it is on the “grey matter” side?”

“Um… not really..”

I nodded in one of those ways that was not altogether convincing.. so he continued to assure me that my septic tank looked just fine. He did say that he would recommend having it pumped though, and left the hefty cement lids exposed.

All of this got my brain to thinking, of what we house inside of us that nobody really can know about but we ourselves. These thinkings are stored in our brain.

Our thought patterns, the way we see life, how it can be so messy and stinky, but how we can wall off our thoughts, and think they don’t affect us… but they do.

They can build the anxiety, the angst, the chaos, until the flood comes, and the thoughts breach the wall, and want to overflow into words that hurt us, and others.

To let these inner musings decompose, and release into the earth to be sifted by the sand, and rocks, and dirt, and filter through into the ” leach field,” where they have become useful for new growth, takes time, and  intention.

Apparently the grass really is greener on the other side, and new things can grow, if we can allow for the process, and have patience.

Keeping the lid on things, has its consequences. Eventually what is buried comes into the light, and either we pump it out and release it, or we are faced with a nasty mess, that can enter the safety of our shower stall, and creep up the drain, and stay, and create lots to clean up.

Pumps, and watching pressure gages these past few days has had an impact on me.

The inner anxiety that builds needs to be released, and trusting that it can be, and needs to be, allows the next breath to be easier.

Nobody wants an overflow of their septic tank, but these natural emissions from our bodies need to have a place to go, just as our thoughts need that release.

Who knew the lessons I’d learn from the decomposition process.. God really does move in mysterious and sometimes stinky ways.