The Porch Swing one... from last year

This Is...
Category: Life

...A big week for me in a lot of ways. I'll write more about it at another time when the dust has settled.

You see, I do my best thinking when I drive. This holiday weekend, that is just about all I did. Drive and think. Hours and hours of thinking. Sure, the thought process was interrupted to break up backseat arguments between my daughters, dodging flying sippy cups and  goldfish, pulling over to kiss "owies", etc. But I have settled my soul, finally, with some big decisions. I punch "go" on the process of these decisions this week. I have to. I have been in a such a state of "spin cycle" lately. I can't do it anymore. I'm worn out. Yes, people will be hurt. I'll hurt. But hurt is temporary. Hurt heals. When the decision is right, everyone comes out better in the end. You just have to hold on to your faith. And that's my plan. I like that plan.

I spent a lot of time with my sister this weekend. At one point, we were sitting in the "famous" rocking chairs on the porch of Cracker Barrel in Lubbock, Texas discussing, as usual, our love lives and/or the lack thereof. Much of the conversation was about our fears of the unknown….will we ever find "him?" Have we already found "him" and just don't know it yet? Will we make yet another mistake? Should we just settle even when we feel that familiar tug at our heart to hold out?

I looked across the way to the two rocking chairs in front of us. There sat, who appeared to be, sisters….probably in their 80s. If they weren't sisters, then they were best friends. They were looking over the menu, trying to decide what to order once their names were called. They were as dressed up as can be for west Texas and 80 years old--their night on the town. I looked at my sister and told her that no matter what decisions we make today, the inevitable truth is that we can't escape growing old. Our appearance will fade. Our energy will diminish. What's for dinner will become much more important than which heels to wear with what jeans. Hell, we probably won't even own a pair of jeans. Point is, this is it. One life. It's not a dress rehearsal. Both of us have been fortunate to enjoy second—even third chances. But we're not getting any younger. Sure, we still feel 25 and most of the time, we act like we're still 25. As each year passes, we'll feel it and see it. But there is still a lot of time between both sets of rocking chairs. We both have the chance to get it right—to seize happiness with both hands and not let go. To appreciate the blessings we do have and not worry so much about the things—and people—we wish we have, but don't. We have the time to take a new look at the people who consider us a gift—and treat us like one—rather than settle for men who look at us as only options…..men who may or may not get back to us when they realize the grass isn't always greener. While they wait, so do we…..and time marches on.

The point of my trip this weekend was to go to my papa and granny's farm house and get the porch swing. This isn't just "any" porch swing. It's the swing that I, literally, spent hours if not days, rocking with my papa and granny (usually papa) talking about anything and everything in the world. Without fail, he would reach over and hold my hand or hug me close when we talked. I could not have felt more special or more loved than on that swing with him. Sure, maybe his stories were long and about a time I couldn't begin to relate to, but they were full of color, humor, nostalgia, intelligence, and warmth. That porch swing, to me, signifies love….life….all of the beautiful things that God wants us to know, feel, experience, appreciate, and give thanks for. The swing is well more than 20 years old and has seen better days. Even so, it was loaded up into my step-father's truck (which I bravely drove with two small children) and carted off to his lake house where he has promised to restore it as much as possible so that I can rock my children on the swing and hopefully one day, my own grandchildren.

I can't go to that farm without feeling a rush of warmth, love, and belonging. No one lives there. The homes are void of people, but still filled with furnishings, photos, and memories. The homes even "smell" the same as I remember them from my childhood. The farm is a reminder that I have a starting place in this world. People cared enough about me to love me and support me and push me off into the world to go find my own happiness.

While there, I discovered a beautiful photo of granny and papa on what my father believes, was probably their wedding day or close to it. They were hugging and all smiles. They made it about 70 years….together. In love. I have no chance of making it 70 years with anyone, but I do have a chance for love. This time, it won't be the kind of love where the scales are so unbalanced—where I feel like my love is enough for the both of us. Where I feel like "he'll come around." Where it's obvious that he settled for me because I fit the bill of who he "should be with." If I could get in return what I give….well, I can't even imagine…..

Once we left the farm we drove back to Lubbock and went to the Alzheimer's/dementia retirement home where my granny now resides. She doesn't really know anyone except for my father. She is happy, although she will never understand why she's there or how it happened. And that's OK. Frankly, we're not sure if she even remembers papa, the farm, or any of the major parts of her life. She is always happy to see us, even if she's not entirely sure who we are. I choose to believe that somewhere way deep down inside, there is a spark of recognition of love, even if she can't identify who or how. As she ate her dinner, delighted in the smallest of things—a cookie or a smile from a friend—I thought back to the conversation my sister and I shared.

Outside of something purposefully tragic, you can't write the last chapter of your life. It's not for us to decide. When we're born, we have this clean slate. We're about the cutest we'll ever be—perfect little babies—and we are surrounded by love, care, and constant attention. Then we live our lives—the good and bad choices, the horrible mistakes, the blissful moments, and the mundane hum of everyday life. But every breath we take….every minute that passes….places us closer to the only thing that is inevitable—the end. And when that happens, do you feel grateful that you made "safe" choices and did what everyone else (who are probably not even alive anymore) wanted you to do? Do you feel relief that you let fear of the unknown kept you on a predictable path where you couldn't even feel this exquisite life that God gave you? Or, do you have regrets that you passed on chances. That you always took the traveled and worn roads. Do you wish you would have said what you always meant to say, kiss who you always wanted to kiss, dance when you felt like it, laughed until it hurt even when no one else knew why, said yes, said no, gone for it, said what the hell, helped someone rather than passed by, prayed more, hugged even when it felt awkward, said 'I love you' every time, danced and laughed with your children and friends...

I looked around the dining room of my sweet granny's retirement home and I couldn't begin to imagine the journeys of the people at these tables—many who could barely lift a fork to their mouth or have any sort of conversation with their seat mates. Why couldn't that be me? It happened to my smart-as-a-whip grandmother who was so full of life and love. Why couldn't my sister and I turn into the old ladies at Cracker Barrel where deciding on which sides to go with our pot roast is the biggest thrill of the day? Maybe their husbands were inside. Maybe they were still in love with those men after all of these years. Or, maybe not. Maybe they never met "the one" and they sit there, rocking….content, but settled. Wondering what if.

I drove home today with so many thoughts running through my mind, many of them scattered and unfinished at best. One very clear thought, however, was that for as long as I can remember, I have done everything in my life to please other people. And I am OK with that. It's a nice way to live, and it's thoughtful. I have waited patiently while the person I love hurts me time and time again before seeing "the light" and realizing I've been right for him all along, leaving me to feel alone and like honorable mention throughout our relationship. I have put together a list of what I want in a mate, only to settle for only a portion of those things just hoping that maybe, just maybe he'll "grow into it." I have loved and given so much of myself to just about everyone in my life, and I have taken sheer joy in doing so. And when I feel it in return, it's priceless. But that doesn't always happen. What's the saying? Show people how you wanted to be treated, and that's how they'll treat you? Well, the doormat aspect of my personality has really created a huge problem for me here.

So if in the end, I'm either in the rocking chair on the porch of a restaurant where the highlight of the evening is having pancakes for dinner or in a retirement home where someone is affixing a bib around my neck…… Well, who knows what will really be running through my mind? I hope I have great memories, a heart full of love, hilarious stories to tell my kids and grandkids. I hope someone is driving 7 hours with screaming kids in the back seat to pick up the porch swing that has made it through generations simply just to breathe in a special memory of me. I hope I can think of "him" and smile my biggest smile, knowing that in a matter of years our souls will be joined once again as God intended. I hope that "he" smiles that same smile, even when we're 80. I hope our kids and grandkids use us an example for their own relationships. I hope that they forgive me for the choices I had to make for myself and also, in a strange way, for them. I hope they one day understand.

As I smiled thinking of the memory of my sweet papa taking my hand, every time, as he talked to me, I thought about how many times I saw him take my granny's hand through the years…..just a natural gesture to show how he is there for her. I remember how his eyes would light up when he talked about their dating years, going dancing on Friday nights and such. Really, it's that simple…..someone who reaches out and who lights up….because he loves me unconditionally in a way that speaks right to my heart. The answer has always been around me in the lives of my grandparents and other special couples in my life. Basically, the porch swing is a constant reminder of real love whether it's a grandfather and granddaughter or romantic love—stopping everything to just swing, listen, hold hands, and be there for each other—even if it's for a brief moment….a soul connection. Think of how much nicer it is to get back to our busy, over-scheduled lives after experiencing that, even if it's just for a minute. Someone saying "I love you" without even really saying it all—feeling it, rather than just hearing it. My papa has been gone from this earth for more than two years, but I can still feel the love. I light up when I think of him, and when I think of his marriage to my full-of-life granny. Love is more than a word….it is an action. It can change everything when it's right. Their love has endured through generations…..to me….and eventually, to my daughters. I owe it them, and to myself, to get it right and to not waste for one second this precious, fragile, beautiful life. If I know where I'm headed, no matter what, then why waste one more second?

Yes, it's a big week. It's a big life. It deserves jumping in with both feet—carefully but with somewhat of abandon in order to really experience it.

I'm glad I got the porch swing. I'm glad I made some big decisions. I'm glad I reconnected with what was real about my past in order to stay focused on what's real in my present and my future. I'm glad my sister and I had that talk. I'm glad that things become more clear for me every day about what I'm doing right…and what I'm doing wrong. I'm glad I'm learning what I want, finally. I'm also glad that within a matter of months, I'll be spending crisp fall evenings relaxing with my girls on the porch swing, soaking in and being thankful for life's rich blessings.

Love life. Swing on.