In case we haven't been friends on Facebook for very long, or you REALLY don't pay attention, you may not know about Emma - the new friend I made in Omaha last fall. Emma is in kindergarten and has been undergoing chemotherapy treatments on and off since she was diagnosed with a brain tumor at seven months old. We met as buddies in a special needs dance class last fall. 45 minutes of dance can be really exhausting for someone who doesn't stand on her own, let alone walk. I think I spend 50% of class CONVINCING Emma to do what I want her to do (I'm pretty good with kids, but she figured out how to get whatever she wants out of me on week one. We do a lot of bartering. Sometimes it involves coffee.)
One of my favorite moments with Emma over the last year happened during the second 'season' we had together. There was a move in the dance where the kids were supposed to start with their arms above their heads and basically 'roll' their arms all the way down to their toes (Think like what you would do with your arms in a Conga line). This required them to bend in half to touch their toes. This was EXTREMELY challenging for her, because, truthfully, she didn't trust me. I usually hold on to her at the waist/tummy and support both her balance and her body weight. This move essentially required her to put ALL of her trust in me that I wouldn't let her fall flat on her face. Each week I would cue her to do this and she refused. The other teachers noticed and tried to get her to do it and she absolutely would not budge. She would cry and scream but she would not try. Eventually, I would cue her, compliment her for her efforts when I felt the slightest muscle tension, and decided that eventually she might give it a shot, but it wasn't worth the fight. Sure enough, about a week or so before her recital, she went all the way to the ground. I don't think she realized what she did until she got down there, because it took her a minute to remember how to get back up. But she popped back up quickly and kind of turned around and looked at me and giggled. I wanted to jump up and down at how excited I was, but I knew better - I simply brushed it off, and, after that, I never had to ask her to do it again.
Truthfully, that little dance move is kind of how my relationship with Christ feels right now. Life. Is. A. Nuthouse. After living in Omaha for two years, I'm getting ready to pack my life up again and move to Louisiana for the summer, home for the following six months, and then Dallas for the five months following that. I'm trying to divide up which of my belongings go to which state, plus trying to finish up projects, finals, and hanging out with my OT school friends, probably for the last time, because who knows what the week of graduation will bring. Additionally, the spring has always (for the last six years) been tough for me because of Brenna. Working with a counselor has helped me understand that this is because I have high levels of empathy - I literally just tend of absorb all the feelings going on around me. I am sad, excited, nervous, overwhelmed, thankful.. and just about every other emotion that you can imagine right now.
Thursday night I got to go see MercyMe in concert with three of my best friends from Creighton. I have always loved MercyMe, their song I Can Only Imagine was one of the first Christian songs I ever heard, and I spent many nights in tears after Brenna died listening to their music and wrestling with how this possibly could have happened, and, essentially 'feeling all the feelings'. They have a song for pretty much every thing you'll ever experience in life, and I fan girl over them SUPER hard. Greater, Dear Younger Me, Even If, and Best News Ever have been at the top of my list, if you're not familiar and want to give them a listen. Even If is especially my favorite for people who are grieving or struggling with something long term. One of the most irritating things as a Christian can be when you know God CAN fix something, and you're praying so hard, but He just hasn't done it. It's hard to worship God during those times. Thursday night was hard to worship - how am I supposed to be thankful and honor God when I have a dear friend who would have been 24 today, but will never celebrate another birthday? When one of my favorite little girls on this planet battles a brain tumor and has to undergo more than most adults ever will? When I feel like I JUST got settled in Omaha and I have to up and move again, and it took so long to settle here in the first place?
I think that one of the hardest things after losing someone you love, after all the initial pain and shock goes away, is transitions. Moving to Omaha was really hard for me because grad school was the first big season of life Brenna never got any part of. The empathy in me feels immense guilt getting to move on in life without her. It feels strange that this summer, I start rotations for something I've always wanted to do, and it's one step closer to having a job and a career. I just got settled in Omaha - how am I supposed to leave? I think that life is mostly made up of that - you get used to one way of living and something new comes along. You're never comfortable for too long. Life is that way and grief just kind of adds to it. I have several friends who have gotten married since college and one who is engaged. Marriage was something Brenna looked forward to so much. It's a bittersweet thing to try to find joy for her since she can no longer be here to do it herself.
Truthfully, Omaha has blessed me beyond measure. I am in awe now that I actually was seriously considering two other schools besides Creighton when I made the decision to come here. I have met some incredible people, including a great roommate and three best friends from Creighton that I'll be friends with for a long time. I saw a phenomenal counselor during my time here who I also will be friends with for a long time. My little five year old dancer (and her family, who tolerates me coming over all the time) is no exception.
This week, I had MercyMe's album on repeat, as I normally do, and I caught a line of I Can Only Imagine that somehow had never jumped out at me before - it says 'will I dance for you Jesus, or in awe of you be still?' Someday my only concern will be to dance. I could do it for days and never get tired. Ever. But wait, it gets better.
Someday, Emma and I will be in heaven together. and we will get to dance. And I won't have to hold on to her. She will be able to do it all by herself. How does it get more exciting than that? The transitions of life, the stress and the worry, and the scary new things will no longer exist because that is all we will do.
I wish I had a recording of her voice last year as we were walking backstage before our recital. It was with the rest of the studio we dance at, so we hung out in her dressing room for a bit and then meandered through the narrow hallways and staircases to get backstage. As we were walking up the stairs, I felt Emma's entire body start to kind of shake and tense up, and she squeezed my shoulder. "You ok?" I asked her. "Yeah." She said "I just so 'cited.'
IMAGINE BEING SO EXCITED TO DO SOMETHING FOR GOD YOU SHAKE.
Many people have asked me about leaving Emma when I move in a few weeks. And I have been honest, she will be the hardest person for me to leave. I can't just text her or call her like I can my other friends (I can but I think her attention span for this will be fairly short. Plus, you can't FaceTime snuggles.) I will miss being able to drink Starbucks with her, and most importantly, I don't get to be her dance buddy anymore. I don't get to pass on my love of dance to her, or help her learn to do things she didn't know she could do, or be the person who waits backstage with her, or answers a thousand questions about whether or not Mimi and Papa are coming to the recital. Someone else will get to do that. But it gives me great peace to know that for Emma and I's joint dance career, this isn't it.
One of the things that Emma and I do at dance class is go across the floor. This means you practice big, traveling movements, literally, across the floor. When you don't walk, these things are near impossible. So I always make her a deal - if she is the arms, I will be the legs. Emma thinks that this is my way of meeting her halfway, but really I just want her to have a chance to practice her arms without worrying about the lower half of her body. Also, she is at the perfect combination right now of getting stronger and not quite strong enough, So I need break. (Don't tell her that this deal benefits me too) She knows this deal though, and repeats it, and she knows that if she doesn't hold up her end of the deal, she will walk across the entire floor. This is not her favorite.
Last year in May I mentioned in a blog that Emma has filled a hole for me that seemed eternally, painfully, unbearably empty after Brenna died. Her tiny little self filled it with giggles, the perfect bow for every outfit, and her love of Starbucks. She reminded me (almost scary, somedays) of Brenna's fashion sense, her contagious laugh, and the times we would sit at Nib's in the summers when she was on her life guarding break and I was working and we would drink coffee. This year I learned that Emma hasn't filled that hole, but she's created something entirely new inside of it. And man, that feels good. This week I was so excited because her mom said I could pick Emma and take her to Starbucks today - my counselor encouraged me to try new traditions and events on Brenna's birth and death days to make them easier and finally try to close that hole. Last year, her birthday fell on a Friday and I had five tests the following week. It was the hardest day in a long time. I sat in the library for most of the day and got nothing done. But this year, I'm happy to report a much easier week and day, thanks to my favorite five year old and a good trip to Starbucks, plus some snuggles. Truthfully, I can't think of anyone I'd rather spend it with. Although I have faith that someday Emma will walk on her own, even if she doesn't walk, I hope she's always dancing.
God, I am doing my best down here to serve, worship, and love, despite loss, stress, and missing some people that I love dearly up there. Please let me be the arms, and you can be the legs for me when I fall short - even if I never learn to walk with you, help me to always dance.
"The Journey between who you once were and who you are becoming is where the dance of life truly takes place." -Barbara De Angelis
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