I am grateful for normalcy.

Normalcy looks different these days. No longer does it include busy evenings filled with Bingo at the local assisted living facility, choir practice, Bible study or small group, CASA visits, watching “my shows” on “free” nights in the bedroom, stressing over lesson plans in my head…

No longer is normal a “walking on eggshells” feeling, a sense of the unknown, an unspoken misery of never hearing “I love you” and never feeling loved.

Normal evolved as I evolved. Normalcy is comfortable now. Normalcy is like a sherpa blanket and good book.

Normalcy now includes soft jazz playing throughout the house, quiet dinners at the table, basketball games on the TV and evenings in front of the fire, long walks in our small town USA, an occasional video call with grandchildren, verbalizing our dreams about who we need to go visit, trips we want to take, things we want to do. Normalcy involves projects and creating the home of our wishful thinking.

Normal is wearing Chiefs hoodies to church and being okay with the quirkiness. Normalcy looks like quiet Sunday morning drives on country roads, stopping to take a pretty picture here and there of ice-covered weeds in a ditch, of late night pickup rides to go find the perfect spot to watch a full moon in the stillness. Normalcy is ice cream before bed, and bedtime before 10 pm. Normalcy is hearing “I love you, dear” many, many times a day.

I am grateful for this normal life.

But I am also grateful for a return of the void.

void
/void/
noun
1. a completely empty space.

I’ve had some serious voids in my life in the last 10 years. Like the void in my life six years ago when my Mom died. I missed her. I missed her so much it was painful to my heart. Shortly after, I began calling Bingo at an assisted living facility nearby and a group of elderly ladies became my “moms,” giving me someone to love every Tuesday night for four years.

I had always wanted to be a CASA volunteer, and so I spent 45 hours in training and gained a new friend in Mariah, my CASA child and “adopted daughter,” since my girls were now absent from my life. I missed my girls. I missed them so much it was painful to my heart. But God gave me Mariah and filled the empty space with her. Mariah is still a part of my world, although she is now grown and living life without the need for a CASA mentor every week.

I gave up my vocal music/piano teaching career and thought I would never have the opportunity again to be with students, when God provided an opportunity to be involved with our church youth choir as an accompanist, thanks to Kevin Bogan and Joyce Blakesley…and encouragement from Sam to step out of my box and introduce myself to Kevin one Sunday morning. I missed being with kids and playing the piano and being a part of music. I missed it so much it was painful to my heart. But God gave me CORis, and through that experience, I met some of the best kids ever, some unforgettable memories, and I met Lisa and her daughter Abbie. I met Doris and her son Matthew. I met Kim and Kaitlin. I met Fabien and his parents, Linda and Horst. I met Grace and her parents, Roxanne and Bob. CORis led to a few piano students again. And the friendships we made through CORis led to a small group with Linda and Horst and Roxanne and Bob.

It’s kind of amazing how life takes a different direction. Never would I have imagined that the void, the empty feeling, the despair of a broken heart, would lead to some of the most fulfilling experiences, memories, and relationships of my life. I just had to follow my heart and not allow that fear of stepping out of my comfort zone stop me from doing new things.

God had plans, if I would just listen to that void.

The void is back. 

As Sam and I fight his cancer and walk that road, as we have made a new home in small town USA, as I continue to adjust to a career at a desk in my bedroom in our home, the normalcy is wonderful and serene. It is mostly without drama. But the void is back. There is something more out there.

I am grateful for a high school waitress who sparked a conversation over pancakes on Saturday morning, and Sam’s willingness to explore what we can do to open ourselves up to serving God in small town USA, to fill the void, follow that “God nudge,” and make a tiny difference in someone’s, or someones’…lives.