You and I sat up last night and talked about how hard this blog has been to write over the last 28 days. I told you that I was looking forward to our last day, and then you said that I'll be sad once it's done. I didn't believe you and I still don't believe you. I said that I was sad when it was over last year because the blog was easy to write. You explained that it was easy to write because what we were doing, brought happiness to ourselves because we knew we did something kind for someone else. Unlike this year. This year, we have been trying to see the good that others are doing, and that has been surprisingly difficult. I'd be lying if I said this has been an easy process, but I'm glad that we witnessed it all together.
Last night, you said that you lost most of your faith in humanity over the course of the last year when you were struggling with the divorce, the loss you felt as you chose to walk away from your churches, and the heartbreak you felt as you watched Grandpa walk away from you and from Grandma, and the rest of your family. You literally watched Grandma crumble to pieces right before your eyes. You witnessed what you thought you would never have to witness. After many years of marriage between Grandma and Grandpa, he chose someone else over all of us . . . His wife, his children, and his grand children. We are all broken from that.
In the midst of all your loss, you were and are still the most positive, upbeat, and optimistic person that I know. I admire the way you handle the difficult situations that God has put you through. When you were struggling with the separation from Dad, and living on your own for the first time, you were always asking me how he was doing because you were so worried about him. You were there when I needed help with Dad. And when I moved home for a year to be with him, you assured me that my decision was the best decision and that he's better because of me. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for talking me through those tough days. 2013 was the most difficult year of my whole entire life and I'm grateful that we all made it through.
When you left your churches, I could see your loss every day, and I felt for you. There it was again . . . loss . . . You lost something else that was comfortable and familiar to you. You left behind a congregation full of friends and supporters, and kiddos who loved you. You felt as though you let them down, and maybe you did. But you did what you had to do, because even though you love being Pastor Sheshe, those churches were not where you belonged. You didn't know if that would be a decision you would regret, but I knew that you wouldn't. I LOVE listening to your sermons and I could watch you preach for hours because you're SO GOOD! But . . . you have a knack for teaching and we both know that. Teaching was your first love, and it's hard to leave our first love. When you teach on the reservation, you get to use both of those talents in one place. I think it's amazing that your students often bolt to your office saying they need "Pastor Sheila" and not just Sheila. How rewarding that you can be both of the people that you love to be at any given moment? You are gifted and your students are so blessed!
And then one of the worst things happened to you, and you watched your dad walk away from your mom after having an affair with a younger woman for the last three years. Brutal! Not only that, but it all happened right before Jordan and Sam's wedding . . . it doesn't get much worse than that. But there you were, picking up the pieces again. Not your own pieces, but your the people around you. All you wanted was for your son to have the wedding day of his life . . . you were bound and determined to make that happen, and it did happen. Now today, you find yourself struggling again as you hear details about him marrying "the other woman" this coming weekend. That's going to be a tough day, but once again you're going to be there to support everyone else. You are always there for others before you ever help yourself and that's a wonderful quality. But Mom, I'm telling you that it's okay to break down and fall apart yourself. You do not always need to pick everyone else up that very second. They can wait. Take a moment to enjoy and embrace a good cry once in a while. And please call me when you do, because I will always be here for you the way you have been here for me.
Do you know what this blog has not shown me, Mom? It hasn't shown me that the world is a much more beautiful place when I really look at it, like I thought it was going to. It hasn't shown me that all people are good. It hasn't helped me to see the world in a more positive way, like I was hoping it was going to. In fact, the last 28 days have confirmed what I already know, and that is that the world is not all good and kind . . . And not everyone is as nice as you are. The bad things are still much easier to see than the good and they will probably always continue to be.
Mom, this blog has shown me that the world is not full of people like you. Your "glass half-full, super positive, things will all work out" personality, is found in you and only you. You are the only person I know that can be facing so many life-changing obstacles, and still smile through all the hurt. You always put others before yourself and that's a simple fact. If someone is hurting or struggling, there you are. You have always picked me up when I'm down. You are the person I call when I need to cry or freak out for a moment. When I feel like I'm about to fail or give up, you assure me that if God brings me to it, he'll bring me through it. You are the writer, the artist, the teacher, the preacher, and the mother that I aspire to be. You are always determined to accomplish the things that you want to accomplish and I SO look up to that! You have shown me that with a little strength and a whole lot of heart, that I can be whoever it is I want to be and I would be lucky to become half the woman that you are. This world is more beautiful because you're in it. Are YOU seeing what I'M seeing?
Xoxo,
Sarah
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