oh come oh come Emmanuel

Today I was asked two questions as a part of an Advent service. 1. How interruptable is your plan?  and 2. Do you believe God is With us? 

To number 1, I now say, what plan? There is so much carnage from my mapped out route that it isn't quite recognizable as a plan any longer. in fact, at this season of life, which appears to have lasted for years, i actually can't picture life "working" out or strolling along long enough to reconnect with a single uninterrupted loop. So, yes, my plan is highly interruptable.

And to number 2, i hear a song in my head that we have been singing...  

"Lay me beside still waters, green pastures, and Ill find rest. i need your delight, father of life, hold me close, away from the bitter, out of the cold. I'll find my rest, I'll find my rest in you." 

And my heart is loosened because I feel most assuredly, God is With Us. In fact, #1 is okay because #2 is real. Interrupt away because God is with me. I know that now in a way i haven't known before.

In early November, I went home to be with my parents for the start of mom's chemotherapy/radiation treatments and ending up attending two funerals (henceforward called life celebrations). I grieve so mightly with dear friends who awoke to find their four month old son had passed away in his sleep. And then two days later an incredible feisty mother, advocate, community leader passes away from mean ALS at only 66 yrs. old. i think i felt life had hit its quota on interruptions.

And with all this, i expect a tidal wave so enormous I will not resurface. Instead I witness beauty in devastation. I am ministered to by the dear, faithful, wailing parents of this sweet baby who still lift their heads to give thanks for his 172 days and to offer hope for baby Grant's well-being in God's arms. They were incredible in their adoration of their son's life and their moans from pain while still singing in memory Jesus Loves Me. A few days later, i see my beautiful friend whose face is weary from a 2 year battle with a mean disease on behalf of her mother, yet who also carried lightness and honor on her face. As if the battle did not defeat her or her mother, their was much to celebrate in the life lived big and in the hope for heaven's rest and wellness. 

Its been a month and I am still stunned and processing all I saw in those 8 grief slamming days. Things that normally a community processes one at a time with years in between. And while there was anger for the lack of comprehension and timing, and there was moments of confusion about who this God is that could allow such loss and pain; there was frustration for all the words we didn't have for one another and the lack of control to fix or solve a thing.  There was also this undeniable beauty. there was this raging hope. there was this soft but vast Spirit covering the steps before us. Covering the steps down the halls to greet the standing parents at the visitation for their baby, covering the shovels that dug up earth under a beautiful tree by a beloved church to spread ashes of this dear mother of my friend, covering the steps for dad, mom and i as she swallowed the first chemotherapy pills and put the mask over her face for radiation. We were not saved from the explosive interruption and harsh new realities, and also, we experienced moments of peace and rest as we grieved. 

So I enter this Advent, markedly lambasted by the lack of plans working out, and yet capable of a new rest because I do believe Emmanuel has come, God is with us my friends. All i can hope is that regardless of the interruptions, you too may find that in new ways as you wait in this season. May you be so very familiar with His presence. Oh come, oh come, Emmanuel.   

pb&j

i woke up this morning and the sun was soft and warm as it met my sleepy eyes.  now that all the leaves are gone we have this unobstructed view of the mountains behind all the houses on the clearest of days. its remarkable each time. and for me its like like a call from God saying Good Morning, I love you Ashley. and i am needy to hear it.

the truth of these days is that my heart is stretched all across the states wanting the chance to look at mom's face.  i know a great deal about her voice so i can somewhat learn from it, but what i crave is to just get a look at her and to know, are you okay? are you hanging in there? what does this feel like for you? i wonder about your faith, how do you describe God these days?

and also i try to live here. to work hard and to look hard at my family. i am delighting in Hannah's curiousity and train of thought these days. we have started reading the bible to her and as she listened to a story about God, and she has asked, "why can't I see God? If Christmas is his birthday, how old is Jesus? , "what does God have like 16 heads?" she couldn't quite picture how He would hear all of us.

and most times the lives merge like peanut butter and jelly. messy. nothing stays on its side. like the car ride the other day where hao asked to listen to a CD that I know mom loves and i start hearing the words and picturing her and I am covered in tears while also seeing your bobbing head in the back.  or yesterday when its Thanksgiving and all is cheery and fun with three little girls in 900 sq. ft. place, and we FaceTime with you.  And I see that face i long for and it looks tired.  i still picture the cheery woman in the kitchen and about the house loving a filled holiday home. But the rest of the day into this morning, i see your tired face and the last few seconds of FaceTime where i couldn't hold on anymore and you said in your strong voice, i love you forever, and we hang up. and all that goes through my mind is i don't want my mom to be sick, tired, different. i miss you. and i love you forever too. 

asking for the 1000000000 time

It was a holiday. I have rules about holidays and vacation that basically assess that when all possible talk about no hard things and avoid conflict on these special days. therefore of course they are typically a hot mess because we cannot make rules about life like that. Today was Halloween. I wanted it to be triple awesome - bc my heart has been in pieces over my mom, bc i am about to leave hao and Ph for 2 weeks and bc hao is at the age where trick or treating is awesome to her.

she was Rapunzel. She picked it 90% bc when she put on the long flowy yellow hair, she thought she was all that and a bag of chips. When she told me she looked "just beautiful" i had to overcome my feminist leanings not to have her dress up as a princess and let her revel in this long hair beauty. she felt lovely, i didn't want to take that away.

after a few hiccups in the day including wig malfunction, exhaustion, sugar highs and lows, we rallied as a family, donned some form of costume and hit the hood. she was happy. we saw neighbors, she snagged a bunch of m&m's for me and a few sour candies for dad. she grew braver and braver door by door.

so at the end of the night, when i think we are sailing free, we read a book and settle in for a prayer. hannah says, "mom, mom, excuse me, do you think i will ever, like ever, get a brother or a sister?" i flood. these are the exact type of times i pictured and i worry for weeks building up to for her. will it be fun for her to trick or treat with just me and PH? Will we pass any other child all night who doesn't have a sibling? Does she wish she had someone to share this with? And here we are at the end of the night and i watched her all night be so brave and make the most of things.. and by the pillow her heart longs and her mind wonders... will i ever be a sister? And my heart broke anew. I wish my baby. I wish so damn bad you have no idea. and i try to regain voice and swipe sobs and i say, "should we ask God, should we include this in our prayer?" And her sweet face nods. yeah mom. So for the 100000000th time, i ask, "God please can we have a brother or a sister for Hannah, please?"

this Oneness thing

we are standing in the middle of the driveway, right near the trash bins no less, and you are passionately expressing your mind. "We are one person, we do this together," you say. "You cannot push me to the side." And a week later, warm tears are streaming down my face in the car as i attempt to eat breakfast on the way to the pumpkin patch, and again, very firmly, you say, "Quit trying to do this without me. You do actually need me. And I need to stay connected to you. I cannot be shoved to the sidelines."

ARGH. He's right. That's Stephen. When my heart feels like the mushiest naked organ in the world, it is not exactly second nature to invite you to hold it. in fact, because you grieve so differently than me, i prefer to have this solo motion. i don't know how to be one when half of me responds so foreignly. Won't you please sob? Or allow your mind to go to the places I am going? Why aren't you more worried? How the hell can i invite you in to this oh so tea cup fragile space when your chance of screwing up are so high and I CANNOT bear more pain.

what i don't even consider, still, after 14 years together, is that even without mirroring my grieving, you are aware. you see me. you love me, you want to hold the mushy heart. But trusting you with it scares me to death, do you know this depth of pain, are you at all familiar? I don't need handling, i need understanding and partnership and i don't have as much negotiation time to play our pieces, how then can we be one?

i see you in the driveway, i hear you in the car. what your saying is you won't be pushed aside. that you do hurt too. and that you want to go this together and won't giving up fighting for that. Because actually you are for me. Dear God, I beg let me believe this. Let me give up the solo run. I may actually need him.

grief entrance gate

i always thought my memory was bad until this horror struck and suddenly my head is flooded. i picture her throughout the years. i see her in the kitchen, at YL camp, at church, at birthday parties, cleaning the house, even marching into my room to attempt the sex talk.  All these images of mom spend their day roller coasting through my mind. and for now i love it. i want to remember it all.  

our news is so entirely henious and there are so many words I cannot even pronouce that currently describe whats happening to my dear mom and so all the medical and informative updates we are going to try to keep on amightyoak.squarespace.com, so feel free to follow along there for that and leave thoughts any time as i know it will be a great encouragement to my family. but this blog, writing, it will continue to be my therapy. its not sweet and boxed in so dont come for that, its my drawing board that i leave in the middle of the road for all too see. idiotic, maybe.  

oddly the most cathartic parts of the last few days have been when i pick up the phone or hear a message and others are sobbing with me. they think they arent suppossed to cry but its absolutely soothing.  i feel okay when i hear tears because i need this shared mourning. mourning for what was, not for whats gone.  the entrance of grief's gates that are like riding an elevator down a floor to a new reality.  one where the most capable woman i know will no longer be always capable. she will tire, and confuse. she will not type me emails or write me long birthday cards, she may not be making our favorite meals through the holidays, she will need help instead of always serving and helping and i don't even know what else.

i have years of cards from her, her words so beautiful, so encouraging, so honoring of me and so hopeful on my behalf. thank God im a packrat. 

two days ago i ran the fastest 3 miles ive ever run. so far i cry, i run, i call someone and cry some more, i create order, do work, i pour a glass of wine, i space out for a show, i pray over and over and over and i sleep.  

i am heartbroken and yet still very much in shock. its not absorbed. the only thing i can think that crushes me 1000 times over is to even consider that Hannah will grow up without her SuSu. This makes my body physically ill to imagine, it feels to me the greatest lost i can comprehend at this point. SuSu is one of the best gifts of my daughter's life. They cherish one another in a way I never knew a grandparent. SuSu adores her and teachers her and well, she must be there. She must. We cannot do kindergarten or 4th grade or teens or , we can't. i can't even think this. but i am.   

not mom

you never want to picture either of your parents hurting or sick.  for some reason with us wilson kids we always somehow imagined that dad would get sick first. in fact, i have had repeated eerie dreams of dressing in black for days on end because something happened to my dad.

and now that which for some reason we always think will come when you are prepared or strong or sans other problems or when they are 95 played out in my life today. last week as i was riding the bus to work i called to check in on mom and dad.  mom relayed to me that she had been having some odd symptoms over the last few weeks. She told me she was having trouble writing as she sat down to write her thank you notes. Her writing was illegible. She told me she went to make dad's eggs and thought the egg was going into a bowl but she cracked it on the counter. She told me she was tired.    

selfishly i told myself life was way too shitty right now and we haven't even come up from the tornado that was last year. mom was going to be okay. this was a reaction to medicine or something. mom couldn't be sick. mom is wonderwoman. my strength. dad, bryan, amy... our go to tell us how/what/when where.  

and then today i was sitting in a meeting and the call came in. i let myself out of the room and went to my office, shut the door, and heard dad in the weariest of voices said "we have very bad news."  heaving and humungous rain tears come out as i try so hard to grasp what he is telling me and make it into a sentence.... tumor... periotal.. neo something... oncology... operable or not... swelling. my mind blank my body shaking, for an hour or so until my jaw is sore. my mom has a brain tumor. this cannot be.  

filterless. leave and wait.

today's sermon slammed my boat. no rocking about it. Truth was delivered and it seemed every inch of my body recieved it from my ears to my stomach to my nose to my head to my heart. it shook me. and that was due time for me. 

after said slamming i had to run to the restroom before church dismissed to attempt to repair my red eyes, splotchy checks and runny nose. i found it odd actually how much i wanted to keep my head down so none of the church members, even ushers and pastors could see my state. Weird to be embarrassed in a church when your rocked, thinking back i should have come out to clapping or something because it meant i received, God's spirit moved and should we party when God shows up to His people? in the church. that very place. a friend happened to visit the bathroom at that exact moment to which all i could say to hear kind face was that "that kicked my ass." so churchy, i know. 

after coming home and building a fairy house with Hannah I was kindly given an hour to run. all of my body needed it although it was soggy and windy and by the end my shoes were squeaky and hair and socks soaked. i needed the space to process or not but to just have space.  

the last two weeks have been nasty tense, where we can't seem to practice enough self control to not leak out every thought of our mind to one another, filterless. more transition, more new, more adjustment and no one is finding their stride. Hannah cries most days without understanding of why one of us can't stay home with her. Stephen works so hard to figure this coparenting thing out with me while laboring through another contract that feels so far from an answer. and me, i have 10 of the worst days i can remember that include a same day trip to Colorado and back for what was supposed to be my first trip with Dan Allender for work that ran straight into the CO flooding (i know, i am v thankful for my very insignificant inconvenience), followed by a trip to the ER with Hannah, followed by a failed meeting with our second largest donor, followed by endless nanny interviews and angst over who could join us in care for Hannah, and of course topped with the perfect dose of hormones. But all my wallowing and resentment again served me none and hurt my people.  

and today i got dealt with. and im thankful. not because i can't have space for wallow and resentment, but because my withdraw into those places GREATLY impacts my people and i can't curl up and stay there. Today, through looking at John 15, a chapter we have heard many times, clarity was offered about a life focused on the vine. a life not staring at the branch or always waiting for the fruit, but a life connected and surrendered to the vine. His stories of Abraham and Moses and Jacob completely moved me in this context.  That their waiting was years upon years upon years. 10-40 yrs where they begged God please honor these efforts, let's go this way, my plan is good, i am doing what you asked.. and God said, thank you. but no, please, be in my story. Come to what I have for you. Leave and wait. Leave your pride, greed, the idea that your children need to be something, that your marriage wld be something else, that the job, the house, the body, the baby, the whatever you hold so close that you need, leave it, enter my story. And wait. Abide in me. Cling to the vine and there your needs will be met.  

Mother of pearl. i am stuck right now and i am not even clear on that which i am gripping so tightly that i can't leave. that the vine sounds less attractive than my own fruit most days. that my branch needs are so damn important that i can't be bothered to constantly focus on this vine that appears to not be giving me what i want.  

whew. thank you Lord for this book of your stories of these incredibly brave faithful men and women who left and waited. i don't always want to be one of them but its clear from the sobbathon PH and i both experienced in church, we are. we are in it. what else to leave, how much longer to wait, i dont know but God please God give us strength to focus on the vine. 

oh please be an angel, Angel

my heart is beating faster as i rush up the stairs to see you.  its your first day with a new nanny. her name is Angel and God knows I pray she really is. i wait to hear your tone and know that your face will tell me everything. i crack the door, it's happy, ahhhh. tiny dolls are spread around the floor and your never-ending imagination with these characters carries on. i exhale what feels like a breath i have been holding in for a month.  

its different now. when we leave for work, i can't just find someone to meet the basic needs. i want someone to build a relationship with my daughter. my most precious gift in my life which i beg someone else to see, cherish and protect. its been a nasty road to this place and you have sobbed, grieved, wondering why a parent cant stay home with you. PH and I have been torn up. You are so grown up now. 

tonight you told me to sit on the sofa, you gave me a ticket to your dance show. i have dreamed of this moment for a long long time. my cheeks hurt i smiled watching your flit and flut and awkwardly kick and create all these motions that seem fun but are so perfectly unrefined, i always wish it could be like this. your expressions are priceless and you check back on me just often enough to make sure your dance brought delight. oh girl, did it. i could barely stay on the sofa was the only problem i was wanting to kick and jump with you.  

after you help me cook some dinner, we sit down and you tell me that you have a long story to tell me. then you grab a marker and begin drawing your story out. it is awesome. something about porridge and blackberries and ballerinas. im a bit lost at the connection when you ask for the next sheet of paper to keep going. and finally you say, i'll have to tell you the rest tomorrow mom. im grinning. im at peace for the first time in a long while. you are okay. you are going to be okay. you are beautiful, creative and long to be delighted in... you wait eagerly for it. you want eye contact and affirmation. but you tell me, it was a good day. really good you add.  

so i cross my fingers, say my prayers, beg, that we haven't screwed up. that Angel will be a gift to our whole family and vice versa. it always feels like what we don't have to give you is so much more than what we have to give. so i am relieved at the very deepest place that you still dance and create amidst all this imperfection we have to offer you. its another new season for us. and we love you. and we hope for you. 

radical

i pictured myself walking down a very long hallway.  there were many doors and light streamed through the window's rooms and filled the hallways. i did not want to check out all the rooms and I wasn't totally sure if i should look to the left or the right to begin. but instead of this orderly walk in and out of rooms, the walls began being knocked down, a bit explosively, like one minute they were there and the next they were slammed by a wrecking ball, and suddenly I was in a wide open space.  

everytime i thought i knew what i might see but as i rubbed my eyes and reopened I was adjusting to an entirely new picture. it was not as i expected, it was not as i had known before, this space, this new construction, the expansiveness of it all was not familiar.  

i could probably describe my whole journey thus far with The Seattle School this way, but most precisely I am describing my experience as an auditor if you will to my first Dan Allender workshop.  Thursday through Sunday was The Story workshop and I attended all the teaching time as a way to begin to immerse myself into a Dan experience. I now see why it is mostly indescribable because most of us do not have the vocabulary in our tool shed of our brains and heart to unlock what ideas he may present. and when i say present, i should say exhort or lead or suggest... something that is not passive and is rather radical. almost entirely radical actually. im moved and dumbfounded. Available and terrified.  

i heard of violence, lust, listening without advising, kindness, anger, play, shame, shalom, delight, shalom shattered, and so on and so forth. these incredibly large images of pain mashed up on the same wall in the same room that is light filled with God's glory revealing in us. i was just an auditor not even near brave enough to be a full workshop participant and my whole self is whirling.  

Each day I work in this place i wait to be treated in ways I understand with vocabulary I know but it keeps not happening. I of course coming from a family of all pastors and counselors totally imagined that this jump would not be too extreme, that i would "get it" and share in the lingo. these are not looks, ways and words I know, much less in the workplace. i repeat, available thanks to God, nonetheless, a wee terrified of how this new expanse, this new spaciousness, this growing vocabulary will immigrate my heart and my home.

heels on

soon i will find my new rhythm. soon i won't be packing and unpacking. soon i won't be starting a new job. soon i will move into this rewrite with assurance that we have landed.  

for now, we remain day by day with the same cheap thrills like sunshine that we had before. we are in our new place which i affectionately refer to as our treehouse.  it will be far more affectionate when the boxes are finally cleared but as we embrace half the size of our last abode we purge, adjust, reset. and hopefully ever so soon things will begin to look like home and the furniture will find its right place.  we are one street over from where we lived last year on the second floor of a triplex in our loved Phinney Ridge.

i walk down the hill every Monday-Thursday to catch the 358 bus to downtown. i love it. i don't care that i am running in heels to make it half the time, i feel a bit revived to be dressed and have meeting notes in my bag.  I ride for about 14 minutes and land 5 blocks away from where i walk down step hills towards the water to get to my office. My building is one block off water and my heart somersaults each and every morning as i watch ferries, sailboats, and cranes on the water.  It has definitely got me thinking more about cruises as I see all the big ships, but anyway, back to my point. i got a job and its good. really good. i have lots more to say on that as i really want you to know this place I will be investing my days in, but i also just want update.

so we are staying. which still manages to feel crazy and weigh 100 pounds on somedays and on others it feels like i can't picture myself anywhere else in the world. (aside from Spain, where i can always picture myself as a fluent speaking flamenco dancing women) this rewrite will continue to be laid out before us and in the meantime we remain curious and seeking and hopeful and scared and mad and grateful.  

soon i will be writing again as i find my space and time again. thanks for hanging in there with me.