I mean, we learn our lessons experientially, right? Someone walks outside and they see the ocean and then they tell everyone they meet that the world is very wet with a surface that never does stay still, it’s so busy swelling and upturning. Or they look up and all they see is the night sky and then they learn how the world is dark and dotted with bright stars that are far away, but manage to give some kind of comfort despite the distance.

And then there’s me.

I learned that covenants are suggestions at best, it would seem; that they mean as much as the ones who make them. I learned that you can build your life around one but then you hear the final death knell when the door slams with the sound of a bullet and you wonder why it couldn’t have just actually been one and why it couldn’t have cleanly gone through your heart. Because that seems better than the way you are walking around shattered, your heart in a million pieces and your smile stopping just short of your eyes.

I learned that bad things happen. Period. That plans change with a force that can feel like God, though it isn’t good and its effect carves you from the inside out. I learned that things are rarely black and white when it comes to relationships; that we stumble and fall and land on each other. That both the landing and the getting back up can cause us to lean heavily on one another. And getting back up. Sometimes we can’t stay around long enough to even see if the other one gets back up. But you hope that, eventually, they do. Still, you have to move on; you cannot bet your life on whether or not they ever do.

But the lessons, they keep coming, like the days that keep coming and you don’t want to stop the former and you just can’t stop the latter.

Because I have learned that there are people who care so much about you that they are up and waiting for you when you walk through the door at 330 am. They surprise you in the living room and tell you that you were born a certain amount of minutes ago a certain amount of years ago and then give you chocolate covered strawberries. Along with a knife. Because there was no wax paper, so you scrape and eat and chocolate is flying and you and your mom and sister are happy.

I learned that there are people in life who give you the kind of creative and thoughtful gifts that make you cry. And then they speak words that bring life and the kind of encouragement that holds the weight of water on a hot day.

And all of these lessons come together and they bring me here. Somehow. And with a force that is God, life is good and better than I could have imagined and people have so much to do with this.

And I’m grateful.
And it was one of the best birthdays.
And my brother, Josh, wanted me to include this tribute he wrote. It’s my first guest blogger–so be kind!

“I mean it! If this baby is a girl, I’m gonna throw it in the trash can!”

That is how I reacted to Mom’s news that she was having yet another fricking kid. This was getting ridiculous. I was so happy being an only child for three glorious years and then !! rapid fire like some sort of reproductive tommy gun, two brothers, wanting my toys, changing the !GASP! channel, basically wrecking my swerve yo.

I had just gotten used to the idea that these small oddly shaped creatures were an unfortunate fact of life (like athlete’s foot or warts that can’t (legally) be cut off.

Now another.

Eight year old Josh had nothing if not the strength of his convictions. I was riled up. Ready for action.

My brothers of course were ecstatic. They were a simple folk, enjoying arts and crafts, playing with bugs, even going so far as putting bugs in their hair (yeah you wont read that little story on chasingmist.com) Think of them as special-needs hobbits, excited about their impending doom; even doing little drawings of their new baby friend- it was disgusting.

The whole pregnancy thing was annoying as well. Don’t even get me started- I had to help mom around the house, vacuuming, dusting, dishes. The hobbits didn’t have to do anything but play with their dumb little arts & crafts.

Then came the big day.

I came down the stairs and realized something was amiss. The stranger sitting on our couch was my first clue.

“good morning! You mommy is had a little girl!” She said with a sort of forced happiness.

I choked on my bile. This was it- the end. 8 years old and officially, life sucked.

Angrily, I turned on the tv. Click click to the UHF, then many smaller clicks to the cartoons. Better get in the Superfriends before this little female interloper made me watch Strawberry Shortcake or something equally as emasculating.

Then I met her. Mom and Pop brought her in, a tiny little ball of felt and red skin.

And I fell in love. A fierce protective love that wanted to shield her from anything that could hurt her.

And that feeling has only grown…

Happy birthday Jess..I love you…”

(thanks, Josh!)

And Yep.
I can only describe this feeling as loved.

Undeniably loved.