Super Fan.

It's all superman talked about for months....

Something, something, STARWARS...

STARWARS...bluh, bluh, bluh

STARWARS...STARWARS...STARWARS

It was mostly adorable, and I kept my eye rolling to a minimum, most days.

But when he insisted on lining up at the theatre at 1 pm, as in 6 hours BEFORE the show time (we already had tickets, since October), I helped him but his lawn chair and blankie in the van, and sent him on his way SOLO...grateful he didn't end up on the front page.

THIS IS THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!!! ( wedding?? Birth of children???)

Whatever......We let him have his day....

All the kids showed up to support Grant on his "BEST DAY EVER " (for fear they would otherwise be disowned ;))....

STARWARS was AWESOME!!!!! (2nd and 3rd time too) 

Superman is a super fan and we are too.

To Be Your Friend.

It's been a rough month, but the last few days have been better...." I say when a dear friend asks about Superman. 

"Still on a StarWars high, is he?? 

We both laugh...YUP.

Rough.

We've been here before. But it doesn't matter how "experienced" we are with bipolar disorder it still feels overwhelming ever single time we face the no-mans-land somewhere between stability and chaos.... 

I try I really do....some days I'm really awesome at handling it all....

I listen with my heart and not my ears as frustrations freely fly.

I hold him and hug him, hoping my touch will break through, when words can't be expressed or heard.

I walk away in moments when time is his only solace.

I pray constantly for courage and guidance and tenacity....

And sometimes I just lose it and admit how $&@#%^* hard this is on him and me and us...

Help.

I guess the blessing of this illness is found in those tender acts of kindness we witness, especially when we find ourselves in no-mans-land...

Grant was angry when I accepted an offer from our new bishop to come visit...

He hates having to explain his "disorder" .....But I watched Grant's worry quickly slip away as there was little need for explanation, because so much was already understood.

Our new bishop then said this...

Look Grant, I don't want to just be your bishop, I want to be your FRIEND.

When so many don't know what to say...Our bishop found words to succour.

"I want to be your friend". I've thought much about those words in the days and weeks that have followed...

If we all could reach out to those around us, with those words in mind...

I want to be your friend..

Even though our struggle continues, I will be forever grateful for our friends.

 

Decorate That Tree.

All five showed up to decorate the tree, it's a Christmas miracle!

That's not how you do it, Maddie...

Seriously Alex...

What is wrong with all of you...

I guess that will work....

Oh my PREFECT FAMILY....

So grateful they all make me laugh, hysterically. Man I love them.

The night ended with a Kramer sister dance party.....{Alex's whip, is impressive}

http://youtu.be/NQ4Y3-mklv4

Broken Christmas

My Dad hated Christmas and he thought we never knew, but we did...

 It wasn't until decades later and one of the last Christmases he spent with us that the truth came tumbling out after one too many glasses of boxed wine, he drank from a coffee mug. 

A lifetime of Christmas heartaches...

Christmas eves, lighting a candle on the grave of a sister he never knew, who died tragically the year before he was born. A grieving mother and father. A home eventually broken apart by that grief. A father who buried his grief with alcohol. A tenacious, but heartbroken mother. His own broken marriage. Most Christmases without his daughters. Christmases aren't supposed to be broken.

 I was floored by Dad's inebriated honesty and tears, a sacred window into a brutal reality of his broken heart. A side of my Dad I would never see again. 

 Grief is something rarely spoken about at Christmas. Christmas is supposed to be merry and bright. Joyful. Happy. And in some moments it is all those things. 

But that doesn't change the reality that for some Christmas brings heartache and sorrow. The struggle at Christmas is just as real as the joy, for them. 

 Sometimes Christmas feels like a season to be survived more than celebrated. If we can just get to January alive, that would be great. 

 Christmas is a hard time of year for me, for us. Loss, grief, wishing things were just a little different. A time of year when it becomes harder to accept, our broken or missing pieces. Reasons so personal. Reasons I used to run from, deny, convince other-wise, cover with blaring carols and acts of kindness. Now there is more of an acceptance that December is just hard.

 I don't think my Dad ever knew he was allowed to hate Christmas, that his broken heart was allowed to be broken. 

I think we are actually all a little broken at Christmas, that we all wish, grief, hope and mourn a little at Christmas...The problem comes when we don't allow ourselves or others to be broken, to feel honestly, to navigate this season the way they need to.

 I never told my Dad how sorry I was for his heartache. How brave I thought he was for giving us special Christmas memories, in spite of his own grief. I never told him he was allowed to be broken, I wish I had....

So I tell you all, you're Christmases are allowed to be broken.