Beautiful Easter Day

My sleep has been disturbed the past several nights.  Horrific images, terrifying stories and disturbing ideas have run rampant in my mind during the time I am trying to rest.  The time I need to rejuvenate.  Often, I have ended up wandering around my condo, waiting for the hours to pass so I can get up and move on with the day.

Last night was the worst it has been.

Rather than waking refreshed on this beautiful Easter morning, instead I woke with all of those anxiety producing thoughts racing through my mind.   I felt physically ill from wakefulness of the night, felt like my skin was crawling with the aftermath of the dreams. 

I knew I needed to move my body in order to work though some of the thoughts in my mind, but I also knew I was in no shape, physically or mentally, to run or bike.  Instead, I grabbed my dog's leash, zipped up a fleece to ward off the chill of the early morning, and started walking.

We walked for miles this morning. 

We walked until my mind worked through some of what was bothering me.
We walked until I was able to let go of the disturbing images in my head.
We walked until angry words were no longer ringing in my ears.

and then we kept walking.

We walked until I noticed the spring time birds singing.
We walked until I heard the cathedral bells chime out their Easter morning greeting.
We walked until I could smell the sweet fragrance of a million tender blooms.
We walked until my eyes and mind were focused on the blossoming flowers, the budding trees, and the soft, sweet breeze.

and then we began to walk home.
And as we walked, I felt my heart open up, and I  began to feel grateful.

Grateful for the beautiful place I call home.
Grateful for the beautiful people I call family and friends.
Grateful for the beautiful girl who calls me 'Mom'.
Grateful for my faith, for forgiveness and for the future.

We arrived home, and I readied myself to attend church service, to celebrate the resurrection of my savior. 
And as I walked into my place of worship, I was no longer focused on the terrors of last night or the anxiety of this morning.

Instead, I entered with an open heart and a clear mind.
And simply gave thanks for the beauty of this day.

2010 word in review

Christmas Eve Sunset in Emigration Canyon, 2010

As many of you do, I choose a word to focus on each year, rather than setting resolutions that will likely be gone before valentines day. For 2010, I chose the word "build", and at the time this felt exactly right for me. I was anticipating some pretty big changes in my life, changes that would force me to stretch and grow and would shape and build an entirely different life for myself and for my child. Well, those changes didn't play out as I expected them to, and I've wondered from time to time whether "build" was the best word for me to focus on this year. Still, it felt so right that I couldn't abandon or ignore it, but instead kept trying to figure out how to "build" something out of the random mess I had before me.

Well, it turn out that over the past year, life has handed me the opportunity to begin building exactly what I want.

When I went to basic training, there was all this talk of "tearing down so you can be built back up". And basically, the drill instructors did just that. They annihilated every sense of self you might have gone into the military with, and then they put you back together into what you needed to be to function and thrive in that very new, very different world. You essentially learned how to walk, talk, eat and sleep in a way that supported "the mission". Brutal? Yes. Effective? Very much so.

Once the basic form was intact, the pressure let up, new training was applied, and you became what you were supposed to be, all tied up with medals and rank and a dress ribbon or two. On the day of my basic training graduation, I was so. damn. proud. of what I had done and who I had become. And I knew -I KNEW- that without the brute force and the humbling experiences and the moments that brought me to my knees, I would not have been as strong, as confident and as solid as I felt in that moment.

A big lesson for a 19 year old to learn, no?

In reflecting on my word of the year, I realize that this year has been defined by a lot of destruction work. Over and over again, I found myself questioning the things I thought I already knew, wondering if the life I thought I wanted was really the right life for me. I found myself doubting my decisions and evaluating my beliefs and weighing my options, and there was a whole lot of uncertainty and insecurity that hadn't been there before (or maybe, I was ignoring before). Many times, I felt like I was barely hanging on by my fingernails and I made some decisions that were just not good ones. I let myself make choices that I knew were not the best for me, I traded short term for long run, and tried to ignore the tiny whispers and then increasingly loud shouting that was coming from my heart. Then, because I believe in being thorough when I'm screwing up, I let the twin demons of guilt and shame mess around with my head while I tried to sort out how to uncover a life I recognized from the rubble of truth and consequences.

Finally, finally, I hit my limit. I'd had enough. I crawled out from under the wreckage, grabbed a sledgehammer and started pounding my way through all of this. I fired the voices in my head and began listening to my heart (they still keep trespassing but I'm getting better about recognizing them and chasing them away). I let go of some garbage that was clouding my judgment. I made some tough decisions that helped me get my life back on track, and then went through an even tougher process to erase some of the damage. I opened up new space in my soul by offering forgiveness to myself for the mess and then opened even more by offering forgiveness to others for past hurt i was holding onto. This whole process was, at times brutal, was very often humbling, and brought me to my knees time and time again. Still, it was exactly what I needed. Life broke certain parts of me down so I could 'build' myself back up into the person I wanted to be.

So even though the year is coming to its end, and my year of building didn't produce the grandiose changes I had envisioned for myself, I am happy with what I have built in the year 2010. It was a hard year, and at the end, I find that I'm more sure of myself and have a much more solid handle on who I am and what I believe. My values are more defined, my confidence is stronger and my heart and head are aligning on some very important points. I'm embracing faith in a way I wasn't able to before and I'm learning to offer myself some grace and self-compassion. I know what I want out of my life and I am committed to getting it. I'm building on past triumphs and past failures and I'm putting in a good, solid foundation for what I want for my (and my child's) future. I'm in a good place.

I'm in a very good place.

Remembering my Grandmother (Gratitude Friday)

Grandma Darlene meets Riley for the first time Sept. 2007

The end of August traditionally marks the end of a season, when we put away the fun and games of summer and focus on the demands that autumn brings. This year, I have found another ending that August will always mark for my family.

My grandmother died yesterday.

My grandma was 75 years old, and her health had been declining for a while. Her passing wasn't unexpected, and while that may help to absorb some of the shock, it does little to absorb the loss. I have been sitting with the knowledge that her time was close for about a week, and while I am saddened for the grief my family is feeling, I am also very relieved that she went peacefully and happy that we are all choosing to remember the good things about a wonderful woman.

I've spent a lot of time this past week recalling the little things I remember about her, trying to set her memory solidly in my head and in my heart so I can tell Riley about her someday. I recall, very vividly, an argument she and I had when I was 5 years old. My little sister had just been born and I had a Kindergarten sleigh-ride to attend. The only gloves that could be found were green with a black stripe and I was certain that they would clash with my pink coat. I was adamant about not wearing them, adamant to the point of dramatic wailing and crying and locking myself in the bathroom. My Grandma (a Wuthrich in every sense of the word) was just as adamant that I would get over myself, come out of the bathroom and wear the gloves. Hollering through the bathroom door, she said, "Amyanne. Wuthrich. (Note: use of my full name was never a good thing) The color of the gloves does not matter. The sleigh-ride is what matters. Now get out here RIGHT NOW!"

I came out, wore the gloves, and I still remember how much fun the sleigh-ride was, surrounded by the crisp December air. The spontaneous snowball fight that erupted afterward wouldn't have been possible without the gloves. She was right, the sleigh-ride was what mattered, and that lesson is something I still try to live by today. Experiences matter. The details are just, well...details.

My grandmother lived a full life. She married my grandpa at 15, in 1950, and they enjoyed 60 years together. And when I say "enjoy", I mean they bickered and bantered for much of the time, but it seemed to delight them both. They had 5 children, and more grandchildren and great-grandchildren than I can count. She lived to hunt, played a mean game of poker, and loved western movies. She was artistic and creative, and always concerned about her kids and grandkids. I can't remember her not reminding me to put on a jacket, even when it was 80 degrees outside.

She let people make their own way and live their life how they saw fit, accepting them as they came and she didn't interfere often. The only advice that I can remember her giving me on child-rearing was to make sure my daughter wore socks every day, advice she bestowed on the first day she met Riley (pictured above). While she may be dismayed to know that Riley rarely wears socks unless absolutely necessary, it was the other bit of wisdom she gave me that day that has really stuck with me. Riley was only about 10 days old, and already I was going through the process of filing for divorce. When my Dad and Grandfather left the room, she tugged on my arm and pulled me down right next to her. Cradling my daughter in her arms, she told me to remember that I was strong, that I could get through this, and that my baby and I would both be better for it. After all, she said, I was a "Wuthrich, and we both knew what that meant."

She was right. I knew what it meant then, and I know, even more, what it means now.

I think there is a little bit of her in me. Perhaps some of my grit comes from her, and I'm absolutely certain a large amount of my stubborness does. She was a woman who laughed loudly and often, wasn't afraid of speaking her mind, cussed when it was required (she understood that sometimes it was required), believed in hard work, and taught her children (who then taught me) that when something needs to be done, you get into gear and just do it. I'm proud to be her granddaughter and treasure the traits I have inherited from her and hope to pass them on to my daughter. She was truly a modern-day cowgirl, complete with spit and sass, and I love, love, LOVE that about her.

Seeing someone you love pass on is hard, even when you know it's a blessing for them. It isn't supposed to be easy but I've found that there are little gifts along the way, if you look for them. There is a certain courage in the fight to keep them here. There is a certain strength in the mourning, in a father letting his children see him cry. And there is a certain grace in the letting go.

Tonight, as I wait for my siblings to arrive, so we can honor our grandmother and put her to rest, I am grateful. Grateful to have had such a wonderful grandmother for almost 34 years, for the influence she had on me, and for helping me to grow into who I am. I am grateful for the good times, the many laughs, and the family she raised. I am grateful for my faith and my beliefs, that reassure me that there is more beyond this life. But mostly I am grateful for those little gifts that I have found along the way; for that certain strength of my father, who let me see him cry and that certain grace of my family, who chose to let her go. It's been a tough week, but for everything this experience has given me, I am grateful.

View From The Top

(of my building, that is.)

Today has been an emotional, trying day. Something major I'm dealing with right now is not turning out as I had hoped it would, and so I have spent the better part of the day talking myself out of the chip that is trying to firmly implant itself onto my shoulder. I'm sure there will be many more board meetings with myself on this particular topic, so I have spent much of today trying to concentrate on staying present and being patient with myself and the situation.

I had just tucked Riley into bed when I glanced out the window, noticed some amazing light, and decided I needed to check it out from my building's rooftop deck. I almost decided not to haul Riley out of bed, but the urge to go outside was too strong, and I'm so glad I followed it. What I found up there was a half hour of amazing, ever-changing views, a child who was content to pull up a chair and marvel at the colors in the skies, and a chance to drink in the beauty of the valley and the mountains that surround my home. As the minutes drew out, and I sunk into the scene, I felt a deep sense of peace and calm and faith settle over my weary mind and heavy heart; a gift I was in desperate need of today.

Tonight, I needed the view from the top.