Into the Briar Patch

The universe has a funny sense of humor. I think I've done a fine job this past year making lemonade out of lemons, getting tough when the tough got going and any other adage suggesting we should made the best of what we have. Maybe it's my competitive spirit, but when my oven quit working on the cusp of holiday baking season I decided to make it my lemonade and see what I could do without an oven. I have made five holiday treats without as much as glance as the oven that is currently on Santa's naughty list. Scott said it was like throwing me in the briar patch.

Maybe so, maybe sometimes I choose the briar patch. Maybe I like to see what I'm made of, surprise people or surprise myself. Maybe the poke of a sharp thorn now and again reminds me to feel alive and makes me appreciate the comfortable times when there are no thorns. Maybe people who don't choose the briar patch are the ones missing something. Maybe playing it safe, always do the 'right thing', coloring inside the lines, pleasing your parents, being appropriate, holding your tongue, not taking a risk, going with the crowd, having 2.5 children, being normal isn't where we plant the seeds of a truly joyful life. What would happen if you took a risk, led from your heart, went against the grain, spoke your truth when no one wanted to hear it or just did a great big cannon ball into the briar patch? What would you learn? You would learn that the thorns were good back scratchers and that hidden within the thorns are beautiful flowers you can only see when your in the thick of it. You would learn that the people who really care about you will never leave, but rather they will cheer loudly for you to succeed and they will pull you out of the bushes when you've had enough. You would learn how thick your skin really is and how sometimes a tender touch is the best way through the tough stuff. And most of all you would feel alive because you will have proven to yourself, the only person who really matters, that there is so much to you that is waiting to be explored.

What did I learn from entering the briar patch this past week? Are you waiting for me to reveal what amazing 'a-ha' moment enlightened me, that took my personal life journey to the next level?  Wait for it....

I learned that I have a deep endearing, passionate love for Beer Pretzel Caramels! I do!  I have honestly eaten about 10-1" squares of the chewy, sweet yet salty, decadent little morsels of heaven. You say 10 isn't that many? You could do better. That was just today. I made them yesterday and they had to sit over night or that number would be much higher. 

Beer Pretzel Caramels made with Tommy Knocker Cocoa Porter

 

 

If you are still waiting for my deep thoughts on personal growth you're not going to find it in this post. Really, I do like the BPC's that much! The simple thing I learned it that I do seek out the briar patch, I always have. Sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose and I have raised boys that do the same. And how it pains me when I see them winding up for big double back flip into the thorns. I find a comfortable spot on the banks of the thicket, bring my bull horn and cheer from the edge so they know where to find me if they need anything. And now I will pack a bag of Beer Pretzel Carmels, but I'm not sharing. These are the same boys who have suffered through their parents divorce and the loss of their brother and they are deep souls that see the value in not judging people because they don't fit the mold. They own character traits that no GPA, ACT or SAT scores will ever be able to measure. They follow their hearts, and have the scars to show for it (both physical and otherwise). Their thorny adventures are often the thorns in my sides, but I wouldn't trade them for anything...except maybe Beer Pretzel Caramels.

Not everything in our lives are catastrophic opportunities to learn more about ourselves, sometimes we simply learn a new recipe that makes our hearts sing with joy. I now know that really good caramels are made with butter, sugar and heavy whipping cream (and beer in this case)... and it is sooooo good! So, just like signing up for a half-marathon keeps me logging the miles, this too will force me out the door for a few more miles in exchange for enjoying my new found melt in your mouth love. And to think, if my oven had kept working I would never had learned this and thrown myself into the briar patch (again). Here's to launching yourself into the briar patch with abandon and excitement about what you will learn, how your will grow and what you will learn to love.

The Gooey Stuff: aka The Good Stuff

The Gooey Stuff is what  holds all the pieces, big and small, of the broken heart together. It's the small dots, and big clumps of Gooey Goodness that allow me to connect the brokenness of the ugly shards and splinters.

Some days I really have to hunt for the Gooey Good stuff. Some days the good stuff is so all over that I can't avoid it. This is my current list of Gooey Goodness

An unfinished creation by Daniel out by the garden.

• The baby birds in the tree in front of my house. How amazingly awesome that Momma bird felt my tree was safe enough to raise her babies in! I love to hear them chirp when she is out there feeding them. Yesterday I took Sam out to see the babies. His eyes go so big and he instinctively got quiet watching them. What a simple joy and how lucky that I have that in my front yard. Teeney Tiny Gooey Goo, but it thrills me and puts a piece of my heart back together. 
• My son Daniel - of course he has been HUGE GOO from day one for me. Daniel and I are closer than we've ever been. Not a day goes by that we don't connect. In addition to being an amazing athlete, Daniel is an artist... a graffiti artist. Artists are such passionate perfectionists! The Gooey Goo this week was Daniel asking me to help with the color palette of his current creation. Do you know how special I felt that my 19 year old son was involving me in his passion?! Goo to the highest power!
• Running & Biking - I have tried really hard the last few weeks to be more consistent.  I continue to struggle to do this for myself. Now, I must be transparent and share that I visited my therapist a couple weeks ago.  She gently threatened that if  I wouldn't use exercise to help alleviate the stress and anxiety that I should consider a prescription. My good friends Pride and Stubbornness got all wound up and knocked me off my pity pot. Then my friends Grief  & Lazy tried to step in, but Pride and Stubbornness are bad ass girls and won the fight. Grief started to cry and Lazy wouldn't get up off the couch long enough to argue so it wasn't even a fair fight. Yes, shocking but true, every time I go run or bike I feel 100% better! Admittedly I live where my exercise excursions are on single track trails or in the mountains where peace and tranquility embed themselves into every pore without any effort on my part. When I'm done the kinetic energy of movement has put gobs of Gooey Goo into one or two more spots and is now holding another piece of broken heart together.
• Fresh Basil from my garden - I love to cook, but my life is to busy to cook in a way that fulfills this passion. Last weekend however, I made fresh Feta Basil Pesto..... A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! What a simple luxiously pleasure. The kind of Gooey Goo that is slow to seep into little cracks and crevasses of my inner foodie and roll around all warm and soft. Spread on crackers, used as sauce of a pizza, tossed in with pasta and roasted chicken. It was a gift that gave pleasure for a week. Brandon was a foodie too. He would have loved all of it! Let me know if you want the recipe, happy to share the Goo! 
• Right now writing and sitting on my back patio as the sun comes up and warms all the Gooey Goo - Knowing that through this blog I am getting to connect with so much love. Friends new and old, fellow Moms, family and broken or not we can all build bigger hearts. Buckets of Gooey Gooing Good Stuff!

What is your Gooey Goo Good Stuff this week?  Expand yourself - find the Goo! 

Grief Bootcamp - The Initial Phase

"The past three days we have done team building courses. I repelled down Eagle Tower in just three jumps! The gas chamber sucks really bad. It felt like my skin was on fire and I was breathing in nothing but firework smoke..... p.s. you were right about me being in a lot better shape than most of the guys" ~Letter from Brandon at Bootcamp, July 16th

I supported Brandon's decision to join the Army. I wasn't happy he choose Infantry, as as Mom I would've preferred something safer, like trumpet player. And, like a Mom, I worried how hard Boot-camp would be for him, if it would make him or break him. Brandon wanted to take the path of most resistance, he needed to prove to himself he could do this and do it well. 

Now I was the one in Boot-camp, a different kind of Boot-camp, but the questions were the same - Would it break me or make me? This one however, no one would volunteer for. Each of us has unknowingly enlisted into this program, no one is immune.You too are signed up for Grief Boot-camp. The problem is you won't ever know when we are going to get called up. There is no warning, no way to train for it, no way to prepare and no matter what you do or who you are Grief Boot-camp will kick your ass.

The initial phase of my Boot-camp relied heavily on the use of sleep deprivation. Brandon said the worst part of Boot-camp was getting up at 0400 hours. HA- I can beat that! I was up and wandering the streets at 0300. The first night I walked over to the grocery store. It's only about a quarter of a mile, no 12 mile ruck march, but it's seemed like a 'normal' thing to do, after all it was open. I had never seen the store at that time of night and the brightness of it's expansive interior seemed out of place in contrast to the dark night and glowing empty parking lot. One checker, a couple stock boys and the floor cleaning crew gave me quick glances of acknowledgment that told me I wasn't the only one to come wandering into the store at this time of night. I walked with purpose up and down the aisles as if there really was something so important it couldn't wait until the sun was up. Remembering when I was 16 and my Dad died I knew there would be plenty of people around in the coming days, so I settled on coffee (and tea for my friend Beth who I knew would be around) and went through the self check out. How strange it was that my entire world had been decimated, my heart fragmented into little tiny indecipherable shards, yet on the outside I didn't look any different (sans the growing bags under my eyes). No one in the store pointed and stared, no one gasp when they saw me. It was an invisible Boot-camp where Grief was my Drill Sargent and I was the only Recruit.

I walked back from the grocery store, coffee in hand ready for the people who would need to make the coffee to appear busy and to have something to focus on and for those who needed to drink the coffee for the same reasons.

In the initial phase of my Boot-camp running came easily. Perhaps because it was what I knew to do and I was on auto-pilot in those first days. I could run through anything and since I was going to master this Grief Boot-camp I could  just run through this too. Back at the house I had now ground away over an hour of my new life sentence, it was 0400 and chilly enough for me to pull out a long sleeve wicking shirt and tights. I laced up my running shoes and stepped out the door. Standing at the edge of the curb I was unable to make a decision of which way to go, but I was sure it would be a long time before I would return to the fateful 'let my guard down' course. Apparently that was a bunch of crap. So much for flying downhill and letting go of my silly anxiety and fear, look where that got me. So, I turned right and headed into the flat terrain of the neighborhood hoping that running would excise my demons and knowing I had a full day ahead of me. I had to meet the Army Representatives at my ex-husband's house that afternoon.

Looking back on those initial days it's amazing what I remember. Actually how little I remember (an ironic similarity between birthing and burying my first born). As I write this I am searching the archives, trying to bring something up to fill in the gaps. Nothing. Big blotches of black interspersed with an occasional memory... running in the dark rain, picking out a box for Brandon's ashes, my mother-in-law's chicken and noodles (comfort food), buying shoes (for the funeral). With the exception of the cremation box it could be memories from any other week, but it happened while I was being initiated into Grief Boot-camp. Like the military's version of boot-camp, Grief Boot-camp breaks you down to the very raw core of who you are. It renders you weak, confused and wondering how long you can exist in such a violently shattered state. These initial days are just a warm up for the real stuff, the hard stuff, the questions (My personal favorite: "How many kids do you have?") and 365 days of anticipating each "first". I gave up exercise after the initial phase was over.