Over break, The Brother was at my house with his wife and three kids for a week. My mom and step-dad were here, too. And The Gen and me. All of us in one house. And some things got broken, you guys.
One thing was a giant, heavy, metal framed window. It was green and chippy and pretty. And did I mention it was heavy? It was laying up against the brick fireplace ... precariously.
But I didn't know it was precarious until the four children decided to play dodgeball in the basement.
Let me tell you - as a parent? Nothing makes you run faster than the sound of a giant crash and glass shattering. When I got downstairs, all four of the kids were wide-eyed, terrified, and all pointing at the metal frame and shattered glass.
Glass that was literally everywhere.
We hustled the (thankfully NOT hurt) children upstairs, and mom, the step-dad, and I cleaned and cleaned. The step-dad donned gloves and picked up the big pieces. I turned over Tuck's trampoline and there were just glass shards.
In the brick. Along the edge of carpeting that met the brick. In the trampoline. In the fireplace. In the rocking horse hair. Everywhere.
Just as we thought we were finished vacuuming and sweeping, we'd see another flash of glass. And we'd start again. Shoes on. Phone flashlight sweeping over the tan, camouflaging carpet. Eventually, we declared it cleaned up.
Literally an hour later.
The kids went back downstairs to play - gingerly. Each terrified that they were going to get scolded. Each still apologizing profusely. Each still a little shell-shocked that they DIDN'T get hurt. Because listen. It could've been pretty bad.
Everyone is gone now. Mom packed her bags up and flew out on Sunday. Monday rolled around and The Boyfriend left and I was home alone. For the first time in two weeks. I cleaned up the basement a little more. Put the trampoline back, rolled up the bounce house, and ...
Stepped on a shard of glass.
We were so careful. The kids played down there. Slept down there. We were so diligent in cleaning it all up and I can't believe we missed just one tiny sliver. I can't believe it found my foot.
Ohhhh, my. There is always a but.
I started to kind of think divorce is a little like that, no?
You clean it all up. Separate finances. Divide debt and pots and pans. You take your favorite spatula and you leave behind your favorite book page wreath (that literally took you eleventy two hours to make). You leave behind bedding and take with you a bruised heart and you think you have it all boxed up and put away.
Labeled accordingly: Fragile.
In the beginning, you step through the days gingerly. Carefully. Wearily. Both eyes wide open and your hands out in front of you. You search for the hurts. You treat yourself as if you could break at any moment. Shatter.
But time passes. And the sun comes back out. And you start to take bigger, deeper breaths, and you start to think that maybe.
Maybe you can start to relax a little.
And then, you step on a glass shard. As neatly as you can box things up. As carefully as you can pack things away. As perfectly as you can label a cardboard box. Sometimes, things can get missed. And damn, those are the things that hurt.
Before Christmas, my mom and I were in the car together and she turned to me and asked me why I love Craig. I kind of laughed.
Because he lets me wear his Snap-On pullover like it's mine? Because he doesn't hate it when I pick up his coffee table and put everything in tiny, neat little piles that he just has to dig back through? Because he listens to every. single. story. in. my. life. twice?
I sighed. "Because he's honest," I said. "And I craved, craved, craved honesty. I wanted that more than anything else."
Something in his life - some glass shard of his own - cut him hard and deep and his honesty is almost guttural. He clutches it. Throws out fiery balls of truth like some kind of defense that he doesn't need. And damn if I do. When I work up courage to ask hard questions, there is always, always an unhesitating, honest answer in return. It's been some kind of weird revelation, this honesty.
Today, I was in his apartment cleaning up said coffee table. And bathroom. And doing his laundry. Because #girlfriendoftheyear. I came across something that looked a little ... fishy. For about .3 seconds I felt this weird panicky feeling that I recognized immediately - like an old friend that I've spent so much time with.
Three years post divorce and they are still showing up. I'm almost certain that they'll always be there. But the excavating. The talking, and thinking, and praying, and digesting. The asking and receiving.
They lessen the shell-shocked, panicky feelings that rise up from some shadowy, lost part of my heart. They lessen the sharp edges of the glass.
And I can breathe again.
PS - The thing that looked fishy? Not fishy at all. Which is really all really just to say I'm never cleaning a man's bathroom ever again.
I've got a few random things to share with you today --
1) Craig's cousin, Stephanie, makes earrings that I am love, love, loving. She's even recently graduated to leather cuffs and tassels AND she bakes. I'm not quite sure how she makes it all happen. The earrings are around $5/pair, they're leather, light weight, and oh-so-trendy. The best part here is that Stephanie is a teacher and a mom. She saw some earrings she loved, she thought she could make them for less, and well ... now all the people are obsessed. You'll just need to request to be her friend, and then you can see the earrings she's got for sale. #shopsmall
2) My former student Sarah is a pediatric nurse, and she has started her own painting/calligraphy business, Chiarta. And oh my stars, is she talented. I bought two of the "She Just Shines" banners (see below - a screen shot grabbed from her InstaStories) - one for me and one for a friend. They're hand lettered AND HAND SEWN. What?!?! HERE is her Instagram. If you're not in the market to purchase anything, follow her anyway ... she makes some beautiful things.
3) If you're a teacher looking for a fun activity this week, or if you are hosting a Christmas party - I give you "Christmas Carol Pictionary" - click HERE for the PDF. Shout out to Creations by Kara for the easy to use resource.
4) You can now shop an Amazon wish list for foster kids. HERE is the link. Tuck and I donated a few things. It was super simple, and I'm glad we had the chance to make the holidays a little brighter for someone else.
OTHER VERY IMPORTANT THINGS:
Random People I've Been Following:
- Mallory Ervin on YouTube
- Jenna Sue Designs Blog
- North Carolina Charm (who also has an awesome section for women dealing with double mastectomies, or eye problems with toddlers)
- My Battle Call - Valli Gideons
Also, my mom texted me that she's making us lasagna for dinner tonight and she'd like to know what time it should be ready. I would just like to say thank the Lord for parents. That's all.
[I read recently that we can only really write about things that have hurt us after the pain has taught us ... that writing while the middle of your real time hurt is a call for help, and writing after sitting with the pain is more of a teacher. For a very long time now, I've wondered about writing about my divorce ... I've wondered when the time would be right. I've decided that there is actually NO right time. So. I think I'm going to stick my toe into the water. Dip a little in here and there, and hope that the pain that divorce and the hegira back to myself helps ... somehow.]
I can pinpoint one specific night that I knew my marriage was truly over. My son was asleep in bed, and his dad and I were going round for round in the kitchen. The soft light above the oven seemed harsh, the cars passing on the street seemed too loud, and I couldn't seem to catch my breath.
I couldn't answer the devastating questions he was asking - questions he had every right to ask. His computer was open on the table, and a bulleted list of discussion points sat before him. Talking points. When a foundation is quaking, crumbling, on fire - it's natural to run to the root of the problem.
Our first inclination is triage. Our first inclination is to throw cold water on the fire, dab at the flowing blood with gauze, and to cry out for help.
And I couldn't help him. All I had for him was apologies that did nothing to fill the sudden hole in his heart.
Liz Gilbert says to tell the truth. I have it triple underlined in the book she wrote: Tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth.
Even if you heart breaks, and your voice shakes. You speak the truth.
Glennon Doyle says that the truth is the only thing you're left with (and also that pain is a traveling professor, waiting to teach us how to rise).
I couldn't verbalize to him that he was a good man, a good dad, a good person, but that he just wasn't the one for me. I couldn't verbalize to him that every day felt like one more brick fell on my chest and soon, my breathing would just stop and
I was tired of gasping.
So I had to leave.
That night was unequivocally the most painful night of our entire divorce. Exhausted by the earthquake of pain shaking my heart, I walked to bed that night and felt like my entire world was on fire. Everything was too loud, too bright, too close, and too much. It felt like a plane was crashing, we were losing altitude, and I had put a mask on everyone else first before myself. I just couldn't catch my breath.
My mom and I were talking tonight and she told me, "Becky. You don't have to advertise a fire. People will just come to help."
And isn't that just so incredibly true? When you're sitting with your broken heart, and when you're trying to listen to what the pain is teaching you, people come. People come to sit with you.
JFK once said, "When written in Chinese, the word crisis is composed of two characters. One represents danger and the other represents opportunity.” And Glennon? My spirit animal? She says that crisis literally means "to sift".
And that night? I was in pure crisis mode. I clung to the belief that eventually, I would sift through all of the broken, and eventually, I'd be able to piece it all back together again into something that was whole.
I shut off the light, and turned on my closet light - I've been leaving my closet light on since I was in second grade. I crawled into bed, pulled the covers clear up to my chin, and I took the deepest breath I could. I sucked in air until my lungs hurt.
And then I slowly exhaled.
There aren't many people that are thankful for the night. There aren't very many people that welcome the shroud of darkness that comes when the sun sinks behind the horizon. But our growth often doesn't happen in the sunlight. Often, it happens under the comforting covers, and the dim light from our closet casting shadows on our walls.
It's nights like these when we bow our heads down low, and we pray that the holes we leave in our wake will eventually sprout roots. That trees will grow, leafing out over a tomorrow that we haven't even dreamed about yet.
And we pray that joy will come for us in the morning.
Our prayers may be awkward. Our attempts may be feeble. But since the power of prayer is in the One who hears it and not in the one who says it, our prayers do make a difference.
[I have been getting lots of questions lately about the "quiet time" I've talked about on my Facebook page. Since I've been in a list frame of mind lately, I came up with five things to help you get started. Nothing like gettin' right with Jesus early in the morning before ya start your day. #checkcheck]
I’m about to tell you something I never thought I’d ever say:
I’ve been getting up early.
I know. I knowwww. No one will believe me - the girl that has 11,000 alarms on her phone and the girl that sets them ALL. Every morning. Just to press snooze on them.
I’m sure it’s probably annoying to everyone else, but I’ve got some things to do.
I feel like women have been doing this for centuries or whatever, but if you’re like me? If you’ve just now started a quiet time routine? You might feel a little overwhelmed. Maybe a little lost? The bible is a big, holy book full of direction and truth. But it can also be daunting.
I started last winter with a little bit of grit. I could do it. And so can you.
If you’re just starting out - here are some guidelines that I found to be crucial:
1. Consistency is key. If you're going to dedicate a portion of your morning, then stick to mornings. If you’re a night owl, stick with the nights. I found that once I got off of my schedule, it was all the more difficult to jump back on the schedule.
2. Find your place. My desk is in my bedroom, so it makes things wildly convenient. I stumble out of bed, brush my teeth and wash my face, turn on my lamp, and then I begin. Again: consistency is important.
3. Stay Organized. I started with Open Your Bible: God’s Word is For You and For Now basically because it had a pretty cover. It was a pretty vital jump-start for me, though, and I was impressed with it's overall impact. I try to work on a bible study for thirty minutes and then a devotional or book for another fifteen.
My Favorite Books So Far: Fervent and Wild and Free: A Hope-Filled Anthem for the Woman Who Feels She is Both Too Much and Never Enough
4. Pray. This is kind of weird to have on the list, you know? Kind of obvious? Here's what happened to me, though: I would study, study, study. I would highlight, mark in my margins, think about becoming one of those bible-margin-illustrators, write scriptures down in my notes ... but I wouldn't pray. In the beginning, I went at Quiet Time like I was a student in college: notecards, fresh books. I forgot all about the talking part. The part where I had to say, "Hey. I know it's early, but I also know You're here. Can you sit with me for a second?"
I had to practice the praying. Isn't that so funny to think? I've been going to church since I was a baby. I have been sitting in those pews ever since I can remember, but I had to learn how to sit in the quiet. How to speak out loud. How to ask. And at first they were just whispers, you guys, but I'm getting better.
5. Listen. When He says, "be still and know that I am God," He's not lying. Take deep breaths and practice listening. Close your eyes, and wait for Him.
These 30-45 minutes of my life in the mornings have been such a game changer for me - the way I think every day, and the way I look at life and other people. If you're not already, maybe try it out for a couple of days.
Find a cozy spot.
Find your bible.
And find Him.
There are so many new faces around my Facebook page that I thought I'd take a second or two to re-introduce myself. There are also a lot of fun new things on the ol' blog, so I thought I'd highlight those using an upscale iPhone markup picture (see way down below) because #reallife and we're only into fancy, fancy things around here.
I'm Becky Cooper (Thumann). I put the (Thumann) in parenthesis because I got divorced and I'm not really sure about keeping his last name. I'm having a bit of an identity thing, but the good news is that I answer to errrrthang.
I've published four books - you can find those at the top of the page under "The Books" (weird, right?), and I have a four-year-old that I call The General because he totally runs the show. (That's not really his name.) He's literally the best thing I've ever done in this whole wide world.
I teach English, I love pasta and Diet Mountain Dew, and I leave my flannel sheets on year round because I just can't quit them. My boyfriend's name is Craig, but I affectionately refer to him as The Boyfriend (so original, I know). He recently moved to Iowa and none of us are over it yet. He makes me laugh a lot, he's currently growing a beard, and much like my flannel sheets ... I just can't quit him either. #hearteyesfordaaaaaaaayzzzzzz
I sometimes write for Elephant Journal and Her View From Home, but you can always find me right here, living my dream.
Fast Facts: I can knit, play the piano, and I was born on Guam. I also am not really blonde.
And I love fresh, new notepads. It's strange. I know.
Okay. Now onto Team Thumann.
[Would you still follow me if this website was called something else? Asking for a friend.]
At the top of the page, under HERS PRINTS:
Whew. I am NOT a website builder, you guys ... but I sincerely am so thankful that you guys keep coming back to read what I write.
. About Moi .
I love, love, love flannel sheets and I am really passionate about lists on post it notes and most of the time I'm sad that no one else is as excited as I am about Diet Mountain Dew. I also adore run-on sentences.
He saw her before he saw
anything else in the room.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald
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