Writing in the Margins

I was talking to my dad last weekend about moving forward. Naturally, as we discussed my upcoming marriage to Jeff, the pull of the past made itself known. Sensing this, my dad told me about the best piece of advice he received after his mother passed away.

"You have to turn the page," he told me. "You have to turn the page and start a new chapter." 

It seemed so simple, but in that moment I realized that I haven't turned the page on my chapter in Arizona.

I have, instead, been trying to write in the margins. 

I have been trying to shove this new story into the cracks between the words and the space between the feelings of those past years. I haven't given Jeff a fresh page. I have given him the margins.

I have written extensively about sadness, loss, divorce, and cancer in the past few years. I have clung to the hard parts of my story and honestly found it difficult to write with unabashed joy about my new life with Jeff. How can my words reflect only joy when my heart feels the whole spectrum of pain and healing?

But, perhaps, squeezing into the margins hasn't left room for that joy to spread like watercolors over the page. 

In order to let that joy cover these pages, the comparisons have to stop. The expectation of imminent disaster must cease.

This doesn't mean I avoid my past.
It doesn't mean that I don't lean into healing when the hard things pop back up.
It doesn't mean that I forget.

I simply don't want to let the miracle of this relationship pass while I wallow in the margins. I don't want to lose the memories of our beautiful times by focusing on the break downs or mistakes.

I have to turn the page. I have to let the new chapter begin. 

So. Let's start fresh.

I met an amazing guy, one year ago today. His name is Jeff and he is a farmer. He is kind and good, patient and loving. His only flaw is that his jokes aren't actually funny and he doesn't like chocolate. Other than that, he is perfect.

A few weeks ago he asked me to marry him. He got down on one knee in the Fairy Tale Trail of a corn maze and asked me to be his wife. He made me a book of our year together. He told me that he wanted to spend forever with me. He kissed me and I kissed him back. Now I've picked out a wedding dress and I have started planning my move to a farm.

My move to a farm. Could we have imagined this? Meredith, who moves around and never settles down, moving to a farm in the desert in a state she never thought twice about.

I don't know about you, but I think this next chapter will be a fun one- to read about and to live. 

Comments

  1. laporteNovember 7, 2019 at 7:23 AM

    This is really good! It is hard, esp in the female brain, to not have every memory connected to another, every quiet moment lapse into still trying to resolve a trauma and rationalize a hurt. Im jealous of those boxes in the brain men seem to have. I think you are doing great, time/healing is helping turn that page and also you trying to guide your brain and heart toward your new happiness in those quiet moments when it wants to still work on the past. There are going to be those days when you need a hug, a zumba and a glass of wine to continue recovery, but less and less as you embrace the present and the past fades. Time. Trusting God with His plan, His justice and His grace. Both hard things in the wonderful and annoying female brain. You are doing so great! I love you.

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