Reaching

Two years ago, like this year, I was leading music for a church and breathing a sigh of relief to be past the craziness of Christmas events. In late December of '07 it was a different church than late December of '09, and it was certainly a MUCH different era of my life. I was at one of my lowest points ever and preparing to spend the whole month of January away from job and home. The church had graciously agreed to give me that time to try to get emotionally healthier and to build into my marriage.

That month was huge for me. A whole month to focus only on doing the things that were truly life-giving. It certainly didn't solve anything - if you know much at all about the story of the year that followed, that much is clear. But for better or worse (and ultimately, as painful as the whole process was for everyone, I believe it was for better) that month started getting me in touch with some important things I'd been ignoring.

One of the most life-giving parts of it was making a commitment to writing every day. I've always felt like a healthier person when I'm writing, and I've also lived my life with lots of dry spells where I didn't write much or at all. So that month I wrote for a while every day, trying not to worry about what the end product would be. Much of it came out as poetry, some as prose, some as song lyrics. But form wasn't the point, and neither was editing. I was really just wanting to learn from whatever it was that was swirling around inside trying to get out. I journaled, too, but I've learned that in a journal I tend to filter more than if I just put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and go.

Two years later, I'm looking back on that month in view of everything that came next. I pretty much detonated a bomb in our marriage and my life in general a few months later. Everything fell apart, and then miraculously began to get put back together. That putting back together process is still going on, and part of that is trying to get my head and heart around what happened.

So I'm feeling drawn to reflect on some of the things I wrote two years ago. I may post a few of them here over the next few days. It's some of the most honest (if unpolished) writing I've ever done. I filtered less than maybe ever before. I'm reflecting on these in public because I'm trying to figure out how (in at least semi-appropriate ways) to not keep the struggle and mess of my life separate from my public face. The mess is what ultimately gets cleaned up, and the cleaning up is the most beautiful part, I'm finding.
 

So here's what I wrote on day 1 of that month. Pretty accurate statement of where I was to begin the month.

Reaching

1/3/07

Reach out
though nothing at all –
nothing –
is in reach
reach out
stretch

try hard – try everything you can think of
grab a stick to extend your wingspan
keep reaching.

Tired yet?
Tired of everything

and nothing at all
is in reach
stretching has thrown out my back
trying is just a word I use
to hope there’s forward motion
to maybe move something through force of will,
Jedi-like, until it’s almost within arm’s length
but that much mental energy is more than I can muster
so very tired and un-Jedi-like

Ready to reach again?
No – I can still remember too clearly
the last grab at air
the shame of missing again
the sound of my self-esteem
hissing out of the puncture-wound.
Besides – reaching, extending
leaves my chest exposed
and keeping these limbs in close
sustains a bit more warmth
since we’re keeping the thermostat down to save money

But atrophy sets in more quickly than you’d think
and I can’t bear the thought of eternal impotence
so as I scan my immediate surroundings
finding still nothing –
nothing at all –
is in reach
I stretch again
exercising muscles that had almost forgotten
that they were made for reaching
extending
grasping
regardless of what’s there to reach
the reaching itself the object