My company has come and gone (enjoyed it, Aunt J!) and we are settling in for the remainder of the week. I have accumulated all the material I need for my business, and much of the thinking is past me. The next week will be busy, as I sew, sew, sew. I am eager to get at it.

But tonight, something else is on my mind, and I am at a loss as to how to express it. That’s how I feel actually, just lost. I don’t know that I have the freedom to go into it here, though I wish I did. Oh what the hay. I’m gonna talk about it, and if I need to delete this post, then I will.

My brother is in jail, as most of you know. He’s waiting there for a hearing at the beginning of August. It’s complicated, but the jist of it is that he’ll either serve his original sentence of 17 years, or the judge may decide to give him one more chance and he could go into a long-term drug rehab program, or a reduced sentence or something. I don’t know what the odds are of any of those things. There’s just no way to say at this point.

Anyway, so that’s that.

Today, we learned that his wife of four months is expecting.

I just… man. I don’t know. I’m tore up.

It really doesn’t help that I found out in the worst possible way, and I’m dealing with that hurt as well. I’m scared and angry, and trying to find my way to a better place with this. But it’s been a long day, and I don’t feel much better ending it than I did starting it. I am battling old wars with myself. Digging up things that have been long buried and put away. I don’t want to go down those old paths again, but my feet move me towards them and I am weary. Does that make sense? It took a long time to heal the old wounds, and I felt the sting of them again today. It surprised me, those ancient pangs. I thought they had disappeared in our history, only distant memories. How fragile our hold on the present, when we begin to glance over our shoulders at the past. I don’t want to live that way.

But I am afraid of the future, too, and find there is no easy place to look.

I know writing this won’t make my folks happy. But dadgum. If I don’t have the freedom to write about my struggles here, then what good is this blog? It’s not just a place to post pictures for my family, or the recipes that I’ve used for a dinner. This is my life. If you read this blog, you’ve got to understand that. I want to be sensitive to the privacy of others, I really do. I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings. But I can’t bring myself to pretend nothing is wrong when the opposite is true. I want to live a genuine life – I want to write what is real. I’ve been up, I’ve been down, I’ve been right, and I’ve been WRONG. But at the end of the day, I just want to know that I was authentic. It’s the only way to learn anything, the only way to grow. Maybe I’ll look back on it, in my wiser years, and see the foolishness of youth, and I’ll regret it. But at least it will be something I can look back on and know honestly where I’ve come from, good and bad.

Anyway, I feel like I’ve got to qualify all that with the fact that I am in no way upset with the baby. You can’t think that my emotions are in any way directed to this innocent little one. That’s ridiculous. But I can’t look at this situation and not cry when I think of what it means. It’s not that I can’t see the joy in a new life. But can I grieve the circumstances? Am I allowed that?

I don’t know. I’m tired, and I think I’m going to bed.

I’m going to close comments on this post. I am just not up to responses on this one, and I hope you’ll understand. I need to feel the way I do tonight. I need the quiet. If I’m still and empty tonight, then maybe I’ll be filled with that peace that passes understanding when I wake. As I lay in bed tonight, trying to settle my restless mind, I will cling to the words of Psalms 61. “Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer. From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”

That’s all I know to do, wait for the way.

Thanks for listening. Don’t know what I’d do without you.