Yesterday was a day of decisions.
A man I called my singing partner, my brother and my favorite person in the world was being laid to rest. It was also the day of a conference for women who had been broken and who were sincerely seeking the Lord's Face to put us back together again...it was called "Get Your Life."
I don't do viewings, and I can barely function at funerals, but this was for someone who meant more to me than even my family because he was one of only three men in my entire life who lived out what he said when he said, "not every man will hurt you. Some will do well with your trust." And he did. Until the day he died, he lived true to his word, and I was able to always feel secure with him, knowing that my name was safe in his mouth. When I found myself giving him too much credit, or putting a Superman cape on him, a cape no man could ever really wear, he would quickly tell me how flawed he was and to not give him too much room to disappoint me. Because of that humility, that degree of empathy and that rare knowledge of self, he never did.
So when I found out that his service was at the same time as the conference, I was heartbroken. I don't do funerals well, but this was different. His wife didn't like me, but this was different. I no longer hung with the same circle, but this was different. I kept getting anxiety symptoms when i even tried to picture him in a coffin, but this was different. I had to be there, if only to show my face.
Yesterday was a day of decisions.
Then I heard a voice very clearly say, "Why?" I knew what God was asking without asking for elaboration. Why was I putting myself through all this anguish when I already knew the answer? I couldn't go to the service because I would be a disruption because I would most likely collapse or something equally foolish, and that would tarnish all the years of brotherhood he had shown me. I had to "Go Get my Life."
It was a day of decisions.
I had already wailed and mourned when I got the news, and will be in mourning for years to come because my heart has lost a piece of itself, but I knew that my brother would want me to "Get My Life." He was there when I had been shattered, and shed tears with me because he was unable to repair me, but prayed with me constantly while we allowed the Lord to heal me. He pestered me to get back on the stage, to sing with him again, but I kept putting him off because that part of me was still "in the repair shop." He embodied Christ's love because he loved me, despite me. I miss him, but I've already said my goodbyes, I've already set my face like flint and walk toward my destiny. I let one sister know of my struggle and my heartrending decision to not be at the service, and I went to "Get My Life." She concurred that he would have wanted it that way because he always wanted me to be healed.
It was a day of decisions.
At the conference, I had to decide whether my mind was going to be at the service or whether I was going to engage to "Get My Life." I chose the latter, he would have been so proud of me. I made new connections with big sisters and little sisters and mothers that I had been seeking since I met him. I decided to knock out a little space in the wall I had built around my heart to see if I could trust these women. I wanted to see if my decision would hold water. I think it did because I came away with a renewed sense of purpose and an assurance that I could make it because I had been in the company of women just like me. Women who had been shattered but were desperately seeking God's Face to help put us back together again. Women who had overcome remarkable odds and weren't just surviving, but thriving, kicking down obstacles, and sharing how we, the battle-weary, could do it also. It was that rare company of women who didn't care what you or anyone looked like, or how you got to the broken state you were in, whether it was your fault or someone else's, they were only concerned with how to help you "Get Your Life" back. It got so good that I let my guard down enough to share my own experiences and life lessons with some of the little sisters that I met. I found myself offering advice for situations I hadn't even recognized that I had overcome.
It was a day of decisions.
I had to decide whether or not I was going to take these newly unearthed tools and re-bury them, or continue to clean them up and use and share them with other women who were also shattered and seeking God's Face to help them "Get Their Life."
I decided to use them.
Yesterday was a day of decisions, and I think I made the right choices.
Phil, you would have been so proud of me.
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