the race

"For I am already being poured out like a libation, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have competed well; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith. From now on the crown of righteousness awaits me, which the Lord, the just judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me, but to all who have longed for his appearance."

2Timothy 4:6-8

my aunt asked me to do a reading at my grandfather's funeral tuesday. i said i would, but i had a lot of anxiety about it for some reason, and really didn't want to do it. i knew i would. i knew i probably wouldn't stumble. but i just had some hesitation...a lot of it. not enough to say no, but enough to make me regret saying yes. anyway...this is the reading i did. this also happens to be the reading the minister chose to speak of at my friend jeanni's memorial service, just a few weeks ago. it was one of those world-quieting, god-magic moments when i realized i was being asked to do this very reading that made it feel like jeanni was there at her own memorial service...as though she'd picked that reading. but then maybe it also appealed to me so much because i run. and jeanni ran. so it just seemed so very relevant and appropriate and right.

one other thing i want to write about...even though it feels weird. the week i knew jeanni had gone on hospice, there was a night...a night that i had a little time or whatever, and so the whole "my friend is on hospice" kind of washed over me. i went outside for a bit so i could cry. jeanni taught me that crying is a great way to release energy. so i did. i cried really hard. because i knew she'd die. but most of all, i knew she knew. and that just did me in far more than any idea i might have on my own in the matter. and i knew that it would all be alright, but it just sucked so profoundly....all i could do was bawl. and then i felt jeanni standing right next to me. it was like i could see her through my tightly crying eyes, looking at me, almost smiling...and it really kind of freaked me out. she put her hand on my shoulder and said "it's going to be ok." to which i replied, in my head, "i know...but it sucks." and she just kept kind of smiling...and i felt weird to feel her so close to me. i worried that maybe she'd already died or something...but she told me again, "it's going to be ok. don't cry." to which i responded, again in my head, "i know it's going to be ok, but it's just really fucking sad right now, so can it on the 'don't cry' shit." she smiled for real and hugged me. and it was over.

at jeanni's memorial service, her sister shared that jeanni told her toward the end of her life that however things went, she was ok with it. and that things would be ok. and it felt really right to hear that. like i already knew, but it was still a gift to hear that story.

and i know it will be ok. there are a lot of times already that it is ok. but there are still times that it is not ok. and also times that it is deeply, deeply not ok. but i suppose, in the end, that is ok, too. i am getting a lot of practice at not judging things. i often think "i'm good" or "i'm not good" or "i'm tired" or "i'm whatever fill in the blank..." lately, i've just been thinking "i am." and that feels so true.

my friend jeanni taught me a lot of things that have helped me work through her death. and probably one of the most powerful things is just to let what i'm feeling work on me...not to fight it, not to avoid it, not to dull it...just to let it be, get through it, let it teach me what i need to know. it doesn't make her absence any less painful. but it does call me to be present and not hide from or in that pain. and i admit, some days i don't feel like being accountable for the light she shared. but i do the best i can...it's all i can do.

peace