Stormy weather

The other day Lilah crawled into my lap and asked me to sing her a song. I started one of the usuals and she violently shook her head. "No no no. Don't say that. Sing Tables. Turning Tables." Leave it to my kid to want Adele as a lullaby. So I snuggled her head to my chest and we sang. She hummed along as close to on-key as one can manage at 2 1/2, and I sang a song that's very close to my heart. As I did, I got a bit introspective.

I love "Turning Tables" because of the quiet strength it exudes. It turned my memory back 6-7 years. Things with my parents had reached the height of their nastiness. I spent more time than not dissolving into tears at the daily heartache. My personal theme songs went from "Who I Am Hates Who I've Been" (self loathing at its best) to "Praise You In This Storm". It was even my ringtone for my parents. For those of you who have never heard it, the gist of it is giving thanks to God during the hard times (nice thought) even when he seems to be nowhere in sight (not such a nice thought). I remember sitting in the Kroger parking lot just to get away and crying while the words washed over me.

I was sure by now, God You would have reached down
and wiped our tears away,
stepped in and saved the day.
But once again, I say amen
and it's still raining
as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain,
"I'm with you"
and as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise
the God who gives and takes away.

And I'll praise you in this storm
and I will lift my hands
for You are who You are
no matter where I am

It helped at the time, but as I grew in who I was, I started to resent the song and what it represented. "Wait, so I'm supposed to stay here, miserable, and let myself get shipwrecked over and over? Without any hope of rescue or end in sight?" I couldn't keep it up. I got stronger. The magical help I was waiting for wasn't coming, refused to come. Was either incapable or unwilling. I was the only help I was ever going to get. So God was with me. Great. But I was still in pieces. 


The first time I heard "Turning Tables", it struck a chord in me. It was who I was, who I'd grown into. And I was so happy to be me.

Under haunted skies I see you
Where love is lost, your ghost is found
I braved a hundred storms to leave you
As hard as you try, no I will never be knocked down
I can't keep up with your turning tables
Under your thumb, I can't breathe

So I won't let you close enough to hurt me, no
I won't ask you, you to just desert me
I can't give you, what you think you give me
It's time to say goodbye to turning tables
Turning tables
Next time I'll be braver
I'll be my own savior
When the thunder calls for me
Next time I'll be braver
I'll be my own savior

Standing on my own two feet

I would never have to rely on anyone else. I've saved myself a hundred times since then. A few times a year when things pop up that seem insurmountable, I take immeasurable comfort in the storms I've braved so far and the storms that can never knock me down again. But it took me every single one of those hurts to form scar tissue thick enough.

I rocked my sweet little baby and almost laughed as I sang "I won't let you close enough to hurt me." That line applied to nearly everyone in my life but her. I couldn't block her out if I tried. She is an ingrained part of my soul, the deepest and most personal part of me. I hope Lilah will be strong enough one day to shove away a relationship that could destroy her. I hope she realizes just how much in life is optional. You always have a choice. Some are harder than others, but one of the most liberating things in the world is to smile and walk away from a bridge you left burning. Even if it feels like you're burning a part of yourself, one day you can look back and dance around the funeral pyre that turned out to be just the cauterization of a wound.