Mayhem Produces Beauty

As I sit on this old, ragged and springy rocking chair, I struggle to decide what I should write. You should know by now I am quite the perfectionist and writing does not always come easily to me when I am constantly scrutinizing the work I present. I will say again, I have no clue what I should write about. What does my audience want to hear? Why is my writing worth reading? How could I possibly think that I am actually equipped for this task? I do not know the precise answer to any of these questions. In fact, I am just as doubtful of my work now, as the day I began this journey. Not necessarily because of a lack of capability but more so due to a lack of confidence and even semi-pleasant circumstances. This time in which I have been thrown so abruptly into has completely shattered my previous comprehension of the world and life I had lived in. Yes, it is easier to find ‘happy’ tales in enjoyable situations. I need no reminding though, that less than ideal circumstances present the grandest of stories. I suppose I should start there.
It started early March- the beginning of these moving ‘pleasantries’. My father had to give up his current occupation and that would leave us in need of a home to stay in, a source of income, and some sort of/any direction at all. We had no idea where we were going. The familiar life in which we were accustomed to was no longer a viable option and in order to survive, we needed to adapt as quickly as possible. We made the best- and only- decision we could and moved our family to small town Welch, Oklahoma where my grandmother has resided her entire life. Now, this wouldn’t be so bad if the town was thriving and surrounding cities were filled with life. However, this is definitely not a description of Welch. Welch is a minute, cattle running town with a population of about 600. It is twenty minutes from absolutely nowhere except the slightly larger, very run down cities of Vinita and Miami. In fact, if my life was filled with nonstop adventure and activity that wouldn’t even be so bad. I, however, live in an 800 sq.ft. home, with six other people, sleeping on a mattress on the floor (this isn’t even an exaggeration). I suppose I have it semi-better than the remainder of my family. At the least, I have an actual mattress in an actual home. My parents and siblings, on the other hand, sleep in a four bed pop-up camper that will, practically, freeze your eyelids shut if you leave the AC running and suffocate you in your sleep if you switch to the fan mode. Ideal is most certainly not what we were given, in this time.
Living here has been no walk in the park, but has been- surprisingly- the most content I have been in years. It obviously did not come all at once, but I got there one way or another. I am not the ‘happy-go-lucky’ type, so you can put your money on the idea that I was quite taken aback when my parents shared the news with me. No, that is a severe understatement. I was completely stunned. I mean, we had joked about moving to Welch for years, so when I heard the words exit my dad’s mouth my first reaction was to chuckle- which I did. The amusement soon fade, though, when I realized this indeed was no joke. He was completely serious. I looked my father in his eyes, dumbfounded, and tears began to well up in the corners of my eyes. I spoke clearly and resistantly. “I cannot live with Nana.” He looked back at me with what I could tell was something of a mixture of sympathy and guilt. 
“Honey, we don’t have a choice.”
My insides churned and my heart dropped. How could this be happening to me? I had just moved six months back, I had just gotten accustomed to things, I had just started to feel at ease with situation I had already felt was a great deal to handle. How could I possibly deal with this? The answer to that was quite transparent. I had to. Day after day went on and it did not matter if I wanted to be in this situation or not, I was in it and had to deal with it. I could choose to be angry at my parents for shipping me off with them to yet another location, I could hate God for allowing tragedy to strike a dedicated family, I could push myself away from the only people that were by my side, but none of that would change where I was or fix how lonely I felt. So I made a decision that I had never been able to make before. Instead of simply existing, I was going to live to the best of my ability.
This decision did not instantaneously make my life pure bliss, it did not even seem like anything changed at first. Little by little, though, I was able to make progress I had never made before. I was able to be the closest to my family I had been, reach the healthiest physical and emotional shape I had in years, form an actual idea of what direction I wanted to go in life, and feel something that was the closest to content I had ever experienced. This entire journey I have experienced, all the painstaking truths I have had to accept, every change I have had to embrace, it has not made my life easier and it certainly has not made me any closer to perfect. It has, however, given me a perspective I never would have been able to even comprehend without the actual experience of it all. I am going to be honest with you, I don’t expect magical ease to be placed in my chaotic life. In fact, at this point, the difficulties keep filing in. But something I know for sure is that me and my family will make it. We are growing stronger as a household and as individual people every single day. Even if we have to endure more calamity or more mishap, we will make it and we will land on our feet in the end. That certitude is what keeps us walking on, after all.
“And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28

"Coffee" T. S. Eliot Print

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