Kim Frencken: Life

Sometimes life throws a punch and sometimes it seems like it never stops. I had looked at others and felt their pain. I had prayed for God to spare them another heartache. 

 I have cried for them and with them. I had often counted my blessings. Wondered why I seemed to have things so easy. Why I seemed to be in a protective bubble. Safe from all of life hurts. And then it hit. Hard.

For the world 2020 was a bad year. Rough. Horrible. Difficult. 

For me, it became very personal. It started a snowball of changes that have left me reeling. I had hoped that 2021 would be gentler. Give me a respite from the storm. But it's proven just as harsh. And, so I just remind myself to breathe. And take things a step at a time. I hold on to hope and pray for strength. And I wait.

 

I keep telling myself that things will get easier. Better. That I won't be sleep-deprived forever. That eventually I'll cry tears of joy. If I cry at all. I've missed deadlines. Work. Family events. Because in the scheme of things, living and dying is so much more important than checking something off my to-do list.

I often read blogs or advice to teacher entrepreneurs telling us to be transparent. Real. Our buyers have to know that we're real people. Open up to your buyers/readers and let them know who you are. That's hard for me. Not with surface things. I'll tell strangers I love cats and pizza. That's no big deal. But to tell someone about the broken pieces inside... that's different.

Even now, just putting the words on paper has taken me weeks. Literally. I start. Stop. I don't want to cheapen a life by writing about it. Or hurt someone I love. So, I'll compromise by saying I lost someone. Someone who I needed and counted on and wasn't ready to lose. 

 And then one by one I paid respects, respectively, to a piece of my childhood and someone who granted me magical moments of respite in a chaotic world. (None of these loses were Covid related. I realize I don't have to say that, but I want to.)

And then, while I'm still trying to pick up pieces, my caregiver responsibilities increased to the point where I needed help. That's hard for me. I'm stubborn and independent and I hate asking for help. Or admitting I need it. But I did and I do. It's hard when the person you're trying so hard to care for doesn't realize that you're doing what's best for them and you're trying. You're doing your best.

Then throw in people who are demanding, selfish, or callous. People who don't know how to ask. People who just want to know the scoop. People who want to know what's in it for them. Thank heavens for the ones that are sincere, who just show up, or who do random kind things for me. They keep me going. 

 Thank heavens for the friends who just send a quick little text or email telling me they care. Or for the friend that says come eat with us tonight. On a regular basis. The world needs more people like them. I'm just thankful they were placed in my life.

And as I write this, I've watched another life fade. I'm packing up a person's life. It isn't easy. It isn't quick. But in her wisdom, she reminded me that this is just life. This is the way it is supposed to go. We live for a season. And then we die. I just wish it wasn't so hard to let go.

In her spirit, I'll remind myself that life goes on. She wouldn't want me to stop. She'd tell me to "keep my ears stiff" (an old German saying). I'm hoping that my creative side will find time to explore some new resources. And I hope I keep on holding onto joy

(For more of Kim Frencken's writing, check out her blog, Chocolate for the Teacher.)