Once upon a heartbreak

I'm blogging on my phone. And I'm pretty leery about it. I've just barely gotten to the point that I feel capable of expressing my innermost thoughts and feelings, which is what usually ends up spilling out in my blogs, with my laptop. Now trying to dig into the crevices of my heart using the same device that's responsible for cat photos and Lol being sent out...it's just weird. 

We'll see what happens. 

I am in Utah today. Andrea + traveling = forgetful city. 

Thus the phone blogging and my beloved laptop sitting lonely in Arizona. 

I love Utah. I love the weather. I love the people, the scenery, the church buildings and roots, the memories I have here. 

And yet today there's this heaviness. 

I was sitting in the tabernacle when a text buzzed my phone. 

I am not surprised. I am not surprised. I am not surprised. I feel the need to show that I wasn't surprised, that I wasn't naive and gullible enough to believe that it would be different this time. And my brain wasn't. My brain was absolutely certain of the outcome. My brain knew with 100% certainty that this would end in pain. And my heart knew it too. Well 99% of my heart knew it.  98% percent of my heart knew. 

But then there was the 2% that was still holding on. Holding onto the hope that this time it would be different. That damn 2% that still waits for the miracle. If I had to guess- that believing 2% is an 9 year old girl who walks the long drive way to the mailbox everyday hoping there will be a letter from her mom inside. It's the little girl who tried to always be good hoping that eventually she'd be good enough to have a mom who loved her. 

If I had to guess that 2% that keeps going back is a tiny little girl who aches and so desperately needs her moms approval so that she can stop feeling so worthless. 

I get it. I know it's not about me. I really do. I could analyze it all the day long about the illness that creates this.  I spent a lot of years working to help that little girl find healing. To help her see that this was NOT about her. It's a good story about how this heart was healed...and one that i will someday share. 

But that 2% she doesn't get it. That little sliver of me that shows up every so often still wants a mom. Hopes for a family and all that brings. 

And sitting there in the tabernacle with hot tears welling up in my eyes I remembered a conversation with a client. 

 "Instead of judging how you feel, belittling,   stuffing, and running from it- could you try honoring it. Letting it show up and feel it. " 

And so I let the hot tears stream down my checks. Reality sinking in- I don't have a mom- and the sadness and loss that I have lived before with this realization hits again. 

And then the miracle comes. The lesson that took me years to discover. That after the pain, the emotion- that for a moment feels like it may swallow me up- passes (and it always passes) there comes the peace and clarity. The truth.

"You are loved" "You are good" "You are not alone...never have been" 

And I look down at the manly hand holding mine. Strong and protective. I look to my left and see these two boys who prove I'm the luckiest girl on earth. 

Me with the dashing Mr. Tyler. Seriously the fall colors were calling my name.