But I have to regress for anyone to understand. I have to tell you something I did not talk about because it was way tooo personal and way tooo painful.
I'm still amazed that four little words made so much difference! And this has nothing to do with writing or Patrick's Rose.
I raise my children with closeness. I want to be around them and they are very important to me even when they get older. It got difficult when they became teenagers, but even then I tried to spend time listening (Not always my strong suit especially when I have my own ideas) to them. Well we made it through some really tough times and they grew up (24, 22, 17 for my older girls ages).
Megan, my oldest daughter, and I became especially close partially because we were always together. She is my editor and my publicist and my all around tech person besides my daughter and mother of the most awesome little three year old. It was cool and I really didn't need friends outside of my own family because of a relationship with my daughter that was very much like a best friend. We had fun together and buddied around together. We shared ideas and frustrations. It was great.
When we moved in May that relationship became Hope, Megan, and I. The three of us had so much fun! We were best buddies. We would go to lunch together. We worked together to get Hope ready for college. We laughed together and shared ideas together. Notice the past tense.
In August Hope moved two and half hours away for college. Megan and I moved her in. It was exciting and emotional. I was so proud and so heartbroken at the same time. There were tears of joy and also tears of sorrow. The joy because I was so proud of her for following through on her dreams and doing the work-- College was the fruit of so much work on her part. Sorrow came because in many ways I was losing one of my pals. Not that I wanted to keep her from it. I didn't. I wanted her to soar and lift with the wind into an unknown world where I've never been. It's just I was very afraid of losing the closeness we had. I left there that day and cried. Megan was there with me and it would be alright. After all I still had one of my buddies and I would visit Hope and she would be home for Thanksgiving. There was consolation.
Then a few days later maybe it was the next day, I am not sure, in the middle of a very emotional time for both Megan and I we had a huge blow up.
She and I for reasons that I am not sure I will ever completely understand had the biggest argument I have ever had with anyone, and hopefully I will never have one like that again.
It lasted for at least two hours and we both yelled, screamed, and said things that shredded both our hearts and souls. Afterwards there was no going back to say sorry. There was heartache like I never felt before. For three days it was silent. For weeks after we barely talked. When we tried to even pick it apart we began to fight again. So we forged a new relationship where we avoided each other and once in awhile would share a little tidbit here or there. That was what the last two months had become between Megan and I. Each time I saw Hope she would ask "Hey are you two doing any better?" or "Have you guys worked it out?" But the answer was no.
It hurt more than my words here can tell you and there was no way to get past the pain. Worse I could feel my daughter's pain too and there was nothing I could do to make it better for her or me. At one point I talked to a counselor about it. That at least gave me a little understanding but it didn't resolve anything. Everyday was filled with prayer. I felt like I had lost my daughter. In a way I had lost my own way too. Definitely I struggled with God over it. Finally, just this week actually, I decided that I was hoping for too much if I thought that it would be resolved. So this week I basically gave up. Not basically-- I did. This week prayer has been difficult at best, time at church nonexistent, and anguish acute.
Then at the point I was ready to throw my computer across the room and scream at myself and God, my daughter walks in the door.
She plops down on the sofa, and is frustrated as I am. She is moody, kinda cold, almost looks depressed, and asks to talk to me.
My first thought is; 'Oh no. Not again. I need to get done and I don't need a fight.' But she is my daughter and no matter how bad the last two months have been she will remain my child forever. And no matter how I am doing my child has my ear. That is just the way it is. It's not even like a choice, it is the way God made me. And it is one of the thing my kids know about me. No matter what I will listen to them.
So I turned off my music and shut my computer and waited. For several moments she was quiet, and then she began to talk. I was really scared because she dove right in talking about the argument. So I stayed quiet, silently praying that God would help me respond the right way when she was done. I am not the best to talk to. I say things and it is taken wrong. When I want to convey something I am much better in print. When my girls were teens we would write letters to each other and that was how we resolved things because when I speak what I am trying to say just doesn't convey. So when she was talking I was listening with one ear and shaking in my shoes while I pulled on heaven's ear to HELP!
When she was done I was quiet for a long time before responding. My heart cry was to find a way to tell her how much I love her and how much I had missed her in the last two months, but there is another complicating factor. Not only do I have speaking problems, but Megan doesn't always hear what I am saying even when I am as clear as can be, and she doesn't always say exactly what is on her heart. Even worse she expects that I understand what she is saying, and sometimes I really don't!
She is the smartest person I know. She very much fits into the 'intellectual' group and when she talks she speaks at a higher caliber than I necessarily understand. I love talking to her, but in this situation I know it could go awry very quickly.
So I was quiet for several moments as I tried to decide what was the most important thing I could say. Then I began slowly, thoughtfully. Both of us listened and both of us spoke, but in the end there were four words that made all the difference.
"I am so sorry." She was talking about her sorrow over losing her best friend and I could feel her pain. I was so sorry she had suffered and I told her, and that caused a healing I had not any longer expected but even now I feel the miracle of it. God restored relationship between my daughter and I with those four little words. Here are four more words-- I am so grateful!
Four little words. Isn't that amazing?
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