Soul Space

Moraine Beach, Highland Park - May 2016

I am obsessed with Lake Michigan.  When I say obsessed, I mean that I absolutely love it, it is my happy place, it is where I find joy and peace and God all at the same time.  It is probably the first place I ever swam, as my mom and I enjoyed many afternoons on Montrose beach while I was still an only child.  When my brother and sister came along, we spent entire days at Rosewood beach in Highland Park.  We built sand castles, jumped in waves, searched tirelessly for beach glass, and ate sandy peanut butter and jelly while the sun burnt our shoulders.  My husband and I bought our fixer-upper in Wilmette for many reasons, but in all honesty I can say that a top priority was our proximity to the lake.  I had to be close to my soul space.

I am not a fair-weather Lake Michigan fan.  I run with my dog through the snow and slush of January to stand on the icy shores and contemplate the contrast between its foreboding presence of winter to its warm and welcome beckoning of July.  I see God's majesty in that juxtaposition.  I swim just as happily in the icy, still waters of June as I do in the warm wavy ones of August.  I have stripped and jumped in after a hot run in May when the water temperature feels like it will make your heart stop, and walked along the shores on a cold Thanksgiving morning with my husband; what better place to contemplate gratitude than in a place of absolute beauty in nature?

On the shores of Lake Michigan, I've sat in beach chairs for hours with my mom and sister or girlfriends and discussed life, and love, and laughed.  I've read books and magazines, viewed countless fireworks displays, drank glasses of wine and vodka cocktails from water bottles, and maybe even danced a little.

I've stood and gazed at the waters and prayed.  I've prayed for the loves in my life, for myself, for hope, peace, healing, understanding, for babies and for miraculous healing from drug addiction for my beautiful brother who broke my heart by succumbing to its power and leaving me.

Another summer is here and for the first time this week, I went alone with my chair, my lunch, my books, and my SPF 30 and 50 as I am getting very serious about protecting my 35-year-old skin, a little too little and a little too late.

A very dear girlfriend lent a book to me that I can only describe as a collection of a woman's musings of her heart and soul.  Each chapter is a new thought based on an experience she has had.  As she and I have so much in common, even though she is a stranger, I am connected to her and the words that she artfully shares.  As I started a chapter titled "What Could Have Been" I knew I was going to be moved.  The chapter spoke about the due date of a miscarried baby, and a woman who cried a little bit at every wedding she attended as her sister had died and the dancing reminded her that she would never celebrate with her best friend again.

This author and I, we connect.  

Tears literally poured out from under my sunglasses.  As an avid reader, I can say with absolute certainty that no book has made me cry since I was 11 years old and read Where the Red Fern Grows (about the little boy and his hunting dogs who die saving his life).  Today, I cried again because of the words an author so eloquently compiled.  I was touched, validated, connected, and so very thankful to my girlfriend for sharing this book with me all at one time.

I pulled myself together, stood from my beach chair, and walked down to the water to compose myself and feel the cool waters soothe my hot feet and emotional soul.  A sweet little toddler crossed my path.  He was wearing a Superman t-shirt, had bright blond hair, blue eyes, and was irresistibly chubby.  It cut to my heart as he looked so much like my beautiful and Heaven-sent little brother did as a baby, and also because I so want to be a mom to a son.  Part of me is so drawn to having a son as I desperately wish for my family to have the presence of a young child who reminds us of my brother, and also because I know the bond between a mother and son is indescribable. The desire is multi-faceted.

I could have looked at today's time at the lake with sadness.  I could have wished for the past when Matt was still with us, or longed for a future when I am there with my own children, particularly a little boy who looked like my path-crossing toddler.  I didn't feel that way today.  I felt peaceful in knowing that today, this is where God wants me to be.  Every day that goes by is another day of learning to live with the loss of one of the most important people in my life, and every day that passes is another day closer to a time when I will become a mother.

I've learned a lot in these last few months about myself, about time, about God's plan, and about the heartbreak that comes for wishing for something that isn't meant to be.

If God agrees with the desires of my heart, it will happen.  If it is not in His plan, I cannot force it. 

I could not force Matt to get better, because God knew that he was safer in Heaven than he was with me.  I'm pretty damn sure God wants me to be a mom as I'm confident I would be really good at it, if not slightly overbearing due to my years of wishing and praying for as child so fervently.  I do however, have to be patient and cannot force the process.  I have to see how He wants that desire to take shape.

I read a quote the other day on (my favorite) Pinterest.  It said:

You have to find that place that brings out the human in you. The soul in you.  The love in you........

I am in that place now.  Physically and superficially, my lake brings out the soul, human, and love in me.  Emotionally and with depth, life's experiences brought me to that place...

The truth about grief, a broken heart, about pain is that you never "get over" the experience.  It changes you fundamentally and you live with it as a part of who you are, as a part of your soul, what makes you human, and what inspires you to continue to love.

Once again, my time at the lake was well spent.  Lake Michigan, a lovingly shared book, and a toddler stranger affirmed that right where I am is where I am meant to be, my human place, my soul space, my place of love.