This is Me...

Amelia and I can hardly listen to the story that I’m reading. The amazing little voice rings out of the bathroom over the soft whoosh of the water from the shower. The tunes are typically “Never Enough” from The Greatest Showman or “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” or any other little song that she tends to make up. She finally jumps out of the shower while Amelia and I try and stifle giggles from the cuteness of it all. She bounds out of the bathroom, dripping wet with a towel wrapped around her little shoulders. She climbs up on the mattress of my bed, gentle bouncing up and down, the springs creaking with every little jump. “Mommy, did you hear me singing?” I smiled and sneak a glance at Amelia. “I did, sweetheart. You are wonderful!” Emerson kneels down in front of me, getting her face really close to mine. She smiles and whispers “I’m more than wonderful. I’d get the Golden Buzzer every time.”

This girl boils over with confidence. She bounces through life not ever knowing that anyone might think poorly of her. And if they do, she doesn’t care. There are no cracks in her self-esteem. She is who she is, and she doesn’t let anyone bother her or get to her. I would define her by her strength and her confidence and her “take no names” attitude. 

I wish I had an ounce of her courage and confidence. I have struggled this week. I have been tasked with “officiating” a funeral on Saturday. My little friend Tricia lost her grandmother and she asked if I would be the one to summarize Grammy Gail’s life and present it to the attendees. This is the second time I’ve been asked to prepare something for a funeral. Typically for me the words for writings like this just flow out. Funerals are hardest for me. Especially knowing that people I love are hurting. But I know that God will give me the words I need in time for Saturday. 

Who are we? I’m not asking this to get philosophical and deep. When deaths happen and people come together to celebrate the person, they are reduced to words on a paper. Tricia brought me a page of notes about Grandma Gail’s life. Events. Memories. Jobs. Hobbies. A timeline. A summary of who she was. 

It made me think of my own “Who am I?” question. Who am I? I’m the daughter of Rita and Art. Sister of Julie. Born in Bremerton, Washington. Attended Peace Lutheran, Fairview Junior High, Olympic High, University of Washington. I have my Bachelors of Science and my Masters of Science. I’m a Speech-Language Pathologist. I’m a mom to two daughters. I’m a hobby farmer that loves my chickens. I’m an assault survivor. I’m a widow. I’m a blogger. I kickbox. I tap dance. I love to read. I’m a friend to lots, best friend to a few. I’m a Christian, a Lutheran specifically. I love Jesus and I love to worship Him and put my faith in Him. 

Thinking through my life, what would I say? What is important? What defines me? Who am I? What would be on the paper that someone would put together about me? What are the things that matter to us enough that we want them read at our final goodbyes to our earthly friends and families?

I did a thing this week. I was interviewed for a podcast put together by a guy named Jay Casale in New York. He and I chatted for almost two hours, spilling out the details of my story, my journey. It was freeing and he shared the blog on a Facebook weight loss group I am a member of. People have responded so positively, so kindly. It was difficult and brought up a lot of thoughts and feelings and memories for me. But, I know that telling my story could be healing for myself; and could also help other people too. So I told the whole story of my journey after college. I shared my assault and my stuff about Brian and walked through all of that. People have reached out and shared their own versions of their journey. I have talked over Facebook with a lot of people. And it has been such a rewarding experience. 

So, what about that part of my journey? Are those things important to my story? Important to my journey? I’ve heard so many people tell me “don’t let those things define you!” But is that such a bad thing? They DO define me! They are a piece of my past that I needed to grow through, heal from, learn to absorb into my being. My assault defined who I was in that it was at that point I wasn’t going to be a pediatric oncologist anymore. Brian’s suicide defines who I was as I no longer was Brian’s wife and it made me into a suicide survivor. These moments define me. They ARE me. 

I have debated all week about posting the link to the podcast. There’s a piece of me that is anxious to share but I am going to share it here. This is me. And maybe these words will help someone else realize that these pieces are them too. So if you’d like to listen to the podcast, please do. (There is some swearing, just to warn you!) I’ll post the link in the comments. And if you want to talk or share or ask questions after listening, please do! We all carry things that are hard. We all need help being proud of who we are and confident. We all need help making sure our life lists define who we are. We all need to be kind and support each other through this crazy journey called life. 

This is me! These things define me! And I am certain that at the end of my life, Father God will give me the Golden Buzzer too.