In Closing - The Catch
[The following is the exchange of the letter and email following my recent trip to visit Victoria and Rick; to celebrate her birthday on July 21. I stayed with them in their yurt, went fly-fishing for the first time with Victoria and shared a moment I knew would come…someday... the first painful “realness” exchanged from the situation from our separation. I offer it as the end of my year of walking in between, and its continuation dedicated to the family of my heart, each of whom has helped me become the man I am becoming: Valerie, John, Victoria and my loving Lord and Abba.]
July 25, 2006
“Dad: for some ‘light’ reading at 30,000 feet….”
So here it is,
I know that most of the following has been said before, but it needs…no, I want to say it again. I love you so much, Dad. I, as a human, a person & your daughter will always love you. No matter what. I may not always agree with what you say, or with what you are doing, but none of it matters when it comes to my love & support. I may react at times like we would never speak again; but know that I would never want to put myself through anything that painful, never mind what it would do to you. That said, I hope you know there will be nothing in the universe, the entire creation of man or the cosmos itself that won’t be okay on the other side of things for you…and me. Us.
V.
[My response]
“Light”…at 30,000 feet.
Victoria: I was going to get right into my work and make the shift back to my other life...and decided to read your letter. Truth is, that there is nothing more important in my life than my family. I have learned this through some very important and often painful and costly lessons. And through it all, when you take life’s inventory, when the "things" we have gathered are all worn, gone out of style, lost their luster, been passed onto friends, left at thrift stores, left at the Salvation Army trailer, when the friends that come & gone, the cards are thrown away, the pictures faded from the corners...and the like...we are left with family. Life’s trail markers.
I did not push our conversation about the situation with your mother yesterday any further, mainly because as a woman you are entitled to your feelings and how you process these changing seasons; leaving behind some old, familiar things and embracing the birth new ones. There is no right amount of time for wounds to heal. Only the healing. There is no right amount of time to find the right words. Only the words.
There is truth...and God's loving embrace.
I love you unconditionally. There is nothing...absolutely nothing in this life that you can do, say or express that will make me love you any more or less than I do at this very moment. As I have every moment before. And every moment to come. I am working through my brokenness, trying to let go of judgment and to come alongside those people for whom I care. To love them well...no matter what that means. I love you. I love your brother. I love your mother. And for the first time in my life, I am learning to love me. I hope that regardless of the path your mother and I are taking, that you will find a place along the road, in your time and in your way, to celebrate the way we are blessed in loving each other. And through it all, that we find real love to give and share. That, after all, is the greatest gift of all.
Our fly fishing outing this past week will always be one of those life markers for more reasons than you realize, or that I realized until this moment. There is a passage in John:21 that talks of Jesus' resurrection, when he reunites with the disciples who are out fishing after the crucifixion. It is referred to as the "Miracle of the catch." The miracle, as I see it, is when we go out to the deepest waters of this life’s questions and hunger, together in fellowship, to cast our nets “on the other side.” And through faith, we catch each other’s hearts. Abundantly. And the net will not break.
Miracles do happen.
On the way to the airport I asked you if there was something I could pray specifically for you. You said there was nothing specific. Here is what I will be praying for you: Father, I lift up Your child, like once long ago under a fat July moon, to ask that You cover her with Your light. That You light her path with tiny fireflies of light, just enough so that she can see even only one step ahead. That You will illuminate each step with moments of love, trust, peace, healing, grace, and belief. That she will find You in the quiet moments and fireworks of Your calling on her life. And that through it all, she will celebrate the truest meaning of family. And love. Amen.
I celebrate you, and the miracle of our catch.
Dad
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*A Final Comment: I want to comment on the process of going back and editing this book. It is now 4 months since receiving the papers from the court confirming the finalization of the Divorce Decree: April 4, 2007. And now, after going back and changing a word here and there to ensure that I have honored God, Valerie, my family, friends and associates I realize that I will never stop wanting to edit and rewrite these pages. To make it more clear. More engaging. More real. And you know what…that’s just not the best calling on my life or the reason this story has been written. In its awkwardness, grammatical goofs, wrong tenses, mixed metaphors and the rest of the flaws that any good editor would “catch” and suggest “correcting,” I am leaving it as is after this review. No more edits. You see, that is exactly the way it is in real life; written with life’s ink of misspellings and grammatical errors. Relationships are flawed. Families are flawed. Friends are flawed. Moments are flawed. Memories are flawed. Words are flawed. We are all flawed. Each and every one of us needs revisions. And, isn’t it the most amazing and precious of gifts that we have a perfect piece of writing that started this and every other story every told… and ever to be told: “In the beginning God created….”
With all the flaws in the story, He still loves us.
Brian. In between.
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4 comments:
Brian, A wise counselor once told me a person has to hear a story at least seven times to get any sense of clarity. I suspect the same is true in writing a story. So keep editing and reflecting, re-writing and engaging. Real-life stories are too precious to rush. Take joy in the journey, my friend.
Brian, thanks for sharing your heart in such an open and vulnerable way. The lessons you have learned along the way have not only touched your life, but have deeply touched the lives of all of us who have read your book. Thanks for opening your heart to us and for allowing God to speak to my heart through you!
Mike: Thanks for the response a sage wisdom. Every day is an editing process. Good reminder to not let the ink dry on who we are and who we are BEcoming.
Kevin Kompelien: Thanks, friend and fellow spelunker. Even though it has and does feel at many times you are alone on the current curve in the road, conversations like this remind that that the silence is ONLY in my imagination.
I look forward to sharing more of our pages.
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