Let the Pieces Crumble into Nothing

I don't need no one to hold my place
You can't take my thoughts, they're not your thoughts to take away
I don't need no one to tease my faith
I don't need no one to celebrate
'Cause all my friends, all my friends are here (ooh-oh)
All my friends, all my friends are here (ooh-oh)
All my friends, all my friends are here (ooh-oh)
Hey, all my friends, all my friends are here (ooh-oh)
Singing it out (whoa-ooh, ooh-ooh)
Devil in the blue sky, angel in the deep
Writing out your best lines and forgetting how to read it
Counting in the wrong time, starting on the three
There's a rhythm to the way life goes, it can knock you out of key
But I am starting to believe
(I am, I am) I am holding on for the real thing (ooh)

- Friends | Matchbox Twenty

This past week I felt the urge to do something I hadn’t done for five years. To pick up my phone, and instead of scrolling through the photo app at 100 mph, past 2020, I felt a voice telling me to stop and take it all in. That voice said to look at my life in moving videos. Play every live video — and I did — beginning in February 2020, ending in January 2024.

And when I was done, the voice said, “you lived.” I knew there wouldn’t be a lot to look at in 2020 as I had shutdown and stopped lifting my camera. Barely my phone. Why bother? Isn’t this what self-imposed punishment is all about? To take from yourself the very thing you love? and join the apathy of the world.

I eventually wrote about it.

As each video played — the voice said, “what a gift.” Videos that spoke of bonding yet left a long gap of silence on my phone. It was okay this time. Those moments are stored away in a keeper box marked “grateful.”

Videos of dad on Christmas Day, in hospice, trying to hold and read cards from the young neighbor children (he passed on New Years Day - seven days later). I miss him. I didn’t cry this time. A video of a little girl entertaining us as dad’s days were numbered -- singing Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer — Christmas evening. That same little girl who recently underwent serious brain stem surgery. The same caring, loving child, who guided everyone down the icy driveway and brought hot chocolate outside for us in the winter of 2022.

The ice storm after dad died. Then spring. The flora, the roots, survived the ice.

Another grandchild is born.

Videos I almost never took for fear I couldn’t give love to half my family, so why give love to the other half? Or any other child for that matter. Creative videos of us trying to communicate during isolation, leaving me feeling foolish later on. I smiled as I saw them this time.

Videos driving back and forth to our home away from home where mom, brother and the neighborhood would remind us of security, joy, laughter and God’s love.

Driving was freedom. So we drove and drove.

Videos of our dogs running free on the beach. Freedom bouncing off salty waves, stirring sand — soaring over the landscape.

Free to scream and laugh out loud.

Videos of fresh snow covering packed pines. Thunderous winter in Silver Falls, Oregon. Wonder, warmth, renewal — a gift of proximity.

Videos of what it means to live free on a wide open range. As it should be.

And jump and jump and jump for joy.

The flag waving, motorcycles soaring, us floating, ducks swimming. Helping where needed. I even had the nerve to make a video, on request, for a Walton’s fan site. Pretty much forgot about it. Embarrassing.

Not embarrassed anymore.

The opening scene beginning with a funeral. The sudden death of my best friend’s husband. We would gather in Salem, Oregon, on a brisk February day and say goodbye to a man that did nothing but love his family. He had suffered some real losses along the way. Losses that were hard to overcome. Losses that affected his health.

We are always “in this together” if we really think about it. But we rescue dogs because we can’t rescue people. Can we be graceful though? Even at a distance? Could this be a human calling?

So my friend and I went on — each without. Unmeasured. But with grace and love.

Internally, I was the quiet petulant child during the pandemic who “chose” her bubble and didn’t go to a concert while a bar manager was asking to see private vaccination records.

I was surprised to see so many videos of music during this time. Some, where the majority of the audience were masked as performers performed very close to each other. My mind would wander and wonder. Was this real?

I resisted anyone who wanted to take the autonomy of my discernment away. My thoughts. Not meant for division but discussion. Decency. No. I was full of life even when I thought I wasn’t. I practiced the Jewish Goodbye which lasts forever and ran alongside of cars as loved ones left (on the orders of small children) — captured randomly on video as if I knew it would matter someday. Holding onto people that matter. It matters.

We still run. They run too.

I saw how hard my husband worked at keeping going - finishing up our home renovation, building a garden that would turn into real medicine, constructing a new bathroom for my mom in the summer of 2021, while her and I celebrated her 85th at the beach (all gutted and finished in two weeks!). He still played his music, despite. Rode his bike, despite. I saw a man who has always been determined to live through loss, never surrendering. What choice do you have when you lose a parent so young?

It’s a decision.

We got up and went. Heavy hearts, free spirits.

My husband ran on the beach on Father’s Days, we gardened on Mother’s Days, many holiday “days” — we lived.

Sleep don't visit, so I choke on sun
And the days blur into one
And the backs of my eyes hum with things I've never done

- Welcome Home | Radical Face  

I watched two grandchildren grow up before my eyes. Grateful and blessed. I caught every single preschool sickness in a 10x more potent manner and fought it tooth and nail each time. I believed and still believe in natural immunity. For myself.

So I looked at what was real, honest and true. It’s always been that way. I challenge you to do this too. Especially if you are still trying to sort the pieces out. Play those videos.

Faith can live with pain — Hope can live with joy — Love can live with grief

Let the pieces crumble into nothing until it’s just true

and keep holding onto the real thing.

1 Corinthians 13:13

Airplanes will fly
Flowers will bloom
Humans gonna feel alone
When we go in the wrong room
Go fall apart
Rip out my heart
Let the pieces crumble into nothing
Until it's just true

 - Find Another Reason Why | Judah & The Lion

Yes, we’ve been everywhere man (Johnny Cash)

Life is good.

All my friends are here…

So I heard a voice tell me to put this together. Make a movie. A gift to yourself. If you indulge me — make sure you’re near good wi-fi. This is the family I keep all wrapped up in 17 minutes of gratitude. It’s how I got here. To Substack.

Notes: “dool” is “school” and I’m kinda like an Annie Oakley. True.