As I’m driving my girlies back home…4.5 hr drive. I still have time to think.. they’re doing what girls do well…sleep. While my eyes are on the road my mind can think clearer..the only distraction is scenery. Here’s where things can get fun, this word “vulnerable” pops up in my head. I think….hmmm…what am I supposed to do with this.

As I settle in my hotel room for the night thinking about who’s funeral I’m going to the next day…I google this word. I read the meaning which is not very encouraging…leaves me wanting more. As I scroll down I come across a Ted Talk from Brene Brown (Now one of my favorite authors/speakers). She’s doing a 20 min talk on vulnerability. I have listened to this talk twice now and I’m realizing this is going to be an ongoing, life altering,  lesson. Not like lingering at the alter after service, walking away thinking all is done….Nope. This is deep cleaning!!

Being vulnerable is different than being transparent. In order to be completely Vulnerable..one pushes out but stays to soak in/listen/stay in the moment…does not walk away. Transparent, one pushes out but walks away…doesn’t feel the need to soak/breathe in/linger. Transparent is a one way street…Vulnerable is a two way street, or head on collision (my doesn’t that sound appetizing). This in my perception anyway.

This is where my introvert by nature, extrovert by necessity comes screeching to a halt. When married to Mike he was my net, sounding board, shield, voice (at times). He protected his flower (well Rose is my last name) due to his view of my frailty/humanity…on an extremely personal level Mike knew the “real” me. As I look back on it now, I didn’t “know” the real me. I was too afraid to show it. Due to ridicule, fear, shame, harsh judgement. I mean I was a “pastor’s wife” after all. I couldn’t show real…even though I didn’t know what and/or who the real me was. I was governed by fear of the unknown (that’s another issue). Here I am, with this word which has been spoken to me (trust me in many various ways), nipping at my heals, heart, mind…seems it seeking action.

In the last four years, since Mike’s death, in order to move forward I’ve had to face ME. I thought I had been as “vulnerable” as one could be. I’m sitting here, in my spot, hearing one big “NOPE”, there’s more. Since I no longer have a pulpit…well honestly I never did Mike did. This is my audience. Whomever chooses to read this. Here’s my first attempt at being vulnerable…ever so awkwardly!!

ME: a name I call myself, one that clearly defines me….By the way picture a huge pause here…trying to figure out where to go…yep that’s me. Making a decision is hard for me. I know full well that any decision I make affects only me…kind of… :)’ I’m still working on this…

Since Mike’s death I’ve discovered I like cider…the adult version. And before you go all crazy on me I’m not an alcoholic (I know, some of you may think that’s the first step “denial’) I truly have my limits…same limits as with soda, cold tea, coffee, food anything I ingest. However, I did have a run in with a bottle of wine. I was standing in a room full  of boxes that I knew I had to sift through. First time in my life I had lived on my own…without anyone sharing my space. Realizing Mike wasn’t there, the kids weren’t there and I’m having to sift through 40 or more boxes of memories. Yep you may have guested it…I downed a bottle of wine. By the massive grace of God I woke up the next morning, amazingly without a hangover…but a good headache to remind me of what I had done. Lesson learned….I can’t numb the pain I feel deep inside. I had to walk through it. Not easy…but real. It was a very long week. It was a few months after that I reached out to a GriefShare group to help me walk through other stuff. Reaching out for help is extremely difficult for me because it shows my humanity a little too much. I always had Mike to depend on…well here I am, the one left to wobble along (weebles wobble, but they don’t fall down…eeekkk my age is showing….lol). I’ve tripped a few times. Although some may think the wine incident is a total face plant…it wasn’t. I learned a lesson.

I can still picture that room in my head and it brings tears to my eyes thinking about what and how I conquered those blasted boxes. There was one box…it was big; I knew at that point I hit my wall. I couldn’t do it…so I shoved it in the corner of the closet and covered it up. It was a year and a half later…I finally went through it. It was all Mikes fishing equipment and stuff he loved. When I did go through it, I was able to appreciate him and who he was. But then I came across his racketball racket and case…Oh my gosh, I about lost my breathe. It was during a garage sale;  in a plastic box. Thankfully, Dori was there and I could walk away to catch my breath.

I have learned it’s okay to say, enough is enough…I’ve hit my limit. I get that there are those who would face this head on, as a challenge, only one more to go….that is not me and I’m okay with that.

I really have no idea how people do this without a relationship with Jesus. I know I have my issues…But I know God is so much bigger than my hangups, mistakes, problems, fears, sin, everything. He has truly met me where I was. Ever so loving. However, right now I sense He’s removing my bumpers. He’s allowing me to feel things, see things I’ve judged ever so harshly, differently. I hope to see them more through His eyes and less my own,  to continue to mold me into His image, not the worlds or even the church’s perception of who I’m “supposed” to be.

I could have thrown scripture in here and there….but I truly found it unnecessary….for now!!