Nothing Wants You

As much as I feel like putting up a giant "Do Not Disturb" sign and just taking a nap right now, there is this gnawing, little voice that refuses to leave me alone.  This little voice keeps insisting that I come here and begin, that I come here to this space and write the words that feel hard to write.  And that I share them with you.

A couple of weeks ago, I had a nighttime dream that feels like the biggest gift ever, a treasure-of-a-dream that will continue and continue to speak to me—words and feelings that I will forever tuck in close.

As many of you know, my precious, 43-year-old sister-in-law, Amy, recently passed away from complications of Pulmonary Hypertension.  My husband and I and our two little girls were on our way up to Seattle to visit her in the hospital when we got the phonecall from my brother-in-law that she had died.  My husband was driving at the time of the call, the windshield wipers were working tirelessly to keep up with the pouring rain—our hearts were breaking.

We knew she was so very tired, that she couldn't hang on for much longer but, we thought—we prayed-- we'd get to see her one last time—to hold her close, to tell her how much we loved her.  We so wanted this.  And, in that moment, with that one phone call, we knew we would not get to hold that beautiful woman again.

For weeks after her death, the image of holding her close, the pain of not being able to, of not ever being able to again, would not leave me.  

And then I had the dream.

Amy was there in this dream, radiant, healthy, glowing her precious Amy glow.  She was playful, full of sunlight, smiling, spilling joy.  In the dream, she hugged me.  Not just an ordinary hug, but a strong, long, deep, feeling-each-other's hearts beat, soul-connecting hug.  As we were holding each other close, she spoke these words:

Nothing wants you.

I couldn't see her eyes at the time that she spoke these words, I could only hear her voice and, immediately, I was confused.  I didn't understand.  I spoke back:

What? 

She then pulled away and looked deeply, deeply into my eyes and said again, with more emphasis on the word nothing and more pause between each of the three words,     

Nothing       wants       you.     

As I stood there taking shelter in her eyes, in her warmth, letting myself feel and savor the sweet weight and strength of her hands on my shoulders, I had a release that I can't possibly describe in words.  Some deep, wise part of me understood what made no sense at all to my mind.  It was like a weight dislodged and lifted, like something heavy left my tired, wanting body.

Release. 

There are so many layers of what these three words mean to me, so many messages here (and messages that will continue to come) calling me to let go of layers of shoulds, calling me to come back to nothing (or everything), calling me to let go of want, calling me to stop chasing after empty somethings, calling me to return to the part that Knows.

A friend of mine wrote a poem that starts out, I am amazed by grace.  I am echoing and echoing those words right now...

I am amazed by grace.  

I      am      amazed      by      grace.

For so, so many things—thank you, Amy.