I had the opportunity to talk to some of my favorite people today.  That's a funny statement in and of itself; I have a lot of favorite people.  Fave person one- I love her because she can see my depths.  I can have a stretch of months where I don't see her at all and then bump into her and it's like no time has passed.  She is Amazing (with a capital A :)).  I respect her so fully and trust her completely.  In a spiritual battle, I want this one with me.  She has stood by me, warred with me, encouraged me, lifted me up, blessed me... I love her. 
Fave person two- she has enough spunk for all of us, a heart of gold, and a realness that can't be imitated.  She wanted to know how my house is coming and it led to a conversation that has been brewing in my mind for weeks.  Independence... Aaron used to gripe and gripe that I was too independent.  So I formulated "boy jobs" and "girl jobs".  I didn't do his and he didn't do mine and I tried to think of things that he could help me with (even if I was capable).  I kinda liked that.  I got used to it.  And here I am.  With all these "boy jobs" that are going to need done and I don't want to do them.  I don't want to.  I'm not handicapped, I can do anything, but I don't want to.  I like partnerships.  I like working with and depending on someone that I trust.  Fave 2 says that I need to not be dependent.  I agree, I guess, but I'm not happy about it.  I want someone to lean on.  I want someone to take care of me (doesn't that sound spoiled?!).  I want to be important to another (and I am-- I've got two stellar kids and amazing family and friends), but it's different. 
I just stumble over the depths of all of this.  On one hand, independence is great.  I can literally do whatever I want (within reason) without clearing it with anyone-- God dealt with me a couple years ago on letting my spouse make more decisions and not being so independent; I'm off the hook now.  Seriously, some idiot asked me a couple weeks ago what was most awesome about my life right now.  That's it: I can literally do what Shannon wants to do without asking anyone's permission.  On the other hand, that's really lonely.  I'm sure I just sound like a spoiled jerk.  I wish I cared.  I promised myself I'd be real here.  I might not admit to any of these feelings out loud, but I'll be real here.  I can't change what happened.  I can't direct the future.  I can't do a whole lot of anything.  I still have this unexplainable urge to run.  Just run.  Get the heck out of here and start over.  I feel really delicate and vulnerable, but shelled.  I just want to close the stinking shell, protect the broken part, and move on.  I'm not sure that's the best course of action, but it's instinctual.  I do like that.  I like just relying on what feels right and not trying to psycho-analyze it all.  And I haven't completely lost it.  I finally went to church this Sunday.  I wanted to vomit.  I wanted to bolt.  The ONLY thing that kept my feet planted was the fact that my kids were there looking at me and happy I was back.  I want my kids to grow up in church and I need to be a parent that they see there with them, modeling behavior.  It doesn't change the fact that my urge to get in the car and drive as far away as possible was almost enough to make freak.  AND THEN, what are they talking about when I enter but Peter... how he denied Christ.  How he had seen the miracles, he'd walked on water, he'd been with Jesus... and yet he still denied Him.  The man went on to say that no matter what storm we're in, we need to look at Jesus.  We might feel broken, we might feel abandoned, but who cares?  Suck it up.  Get over it.  Do God's work.  Keep your eyes on Jesus.  Trust Him.  The Body can't function if all it's pieces aren't reporting for duty.  That last part stung.  And yet, I'm not feeling it.  Instinctually, I was physically there and that's the best I can do right now.  And, yes, I'm relieved that I can't go the next two weeks.  Good or bad, it's true.  I can't keep the shell closed at church and really, maybe that's the part I'm protecting.  I know God is good.  I know that all that's happened wasn't part of His divine plan "Break Shannon".  I'm just not ready to be that open yet.  I think it will come, but I don't know how, when, or where.  I just know that I can only have so many doors open at a time and that one isn't ready.  I guess that's part of my independence too.  Sigh. 

Pain and I are no strangers.  We've kept company.  We don't chase each other away.  But my pain all comes from a sense of loss and uncertainty.  Uncertainty in what to do with what I have in front of me.  When you fight a battle with faith and feel like you lost here on Earth, it has to (or at least it makes me) question what to do when you see the same thing again.  
God and I had a good dialogue this morning.  I love that.  When I feel like I can ask questions and receive answers in my spirit immediately.  And I love that, when it's God- not me-, that there is absoluteness in the answers.  We did our part.  We did all that we could.  We prayed and believed.  We stood.  We didn't waver around.  I can't say that I'm still that steadfast in action, but my spirit is still standing, still believing, still trusting.  Just a case of whiplash.  God has a plan.  I believe that.  I need to learn how to honor Him in the valley.  And I need to learn how to comfort my kids.  My son has this fixation on death now.  Talks about it all the time.  Lets his toys die during playtime... I know it's normal, but it's so hard not to cry through it.  Tells me regularly not to die or get older.  I just can't hold onto them tight enough and a teeny, tiny part of me is so afraid to hold on.  My gosh, exposure hurts.  
Reasoning and I are friends.  I know that I have today.  I know that tomorrow is a gift.  Despite the pain or the uncertainty or the sadness, I need to get out of every moment what I can instead of sitting and waiting for things that aren't going to change.  Hence my unbelievable need to go, go, go.  I know that displays the unsettling I feel, but I don't care.  I either sleep or I want to run.  Maybe I'll get some really good miles out of this. 
Okay, so to return to point, pain and I are no strangers, BUT Joy and Happiness and Laughter and I are best friends.  I feel like maybe that's great revenge.