Today, my friend's book released on Amazon: #TheTruthAboutUs
I participated in a launch team to help raise awareness of the book. I only get involved with things I believe are worth multiplying. That is hands down the truth in Brant's case and in the case of this book.
God not only put Brant on the radio in His great providence, I firmly believe He also formed Brant as a radio in his own right, emitting a unique frequency that is the only signal a select few of us are able to pick up on.
Those of us who get the clearest signal when tuned into Brant's frequency have an assorted variety of super powers but one thing we seem to share in common is this ability to feel at once isolated and privileged to be grouped together. Brant speaks directly into that. And I, for one, appreciate it.
Remember Gilligan's Island? Brant is a radio, powered by salt-water and coconut shells, broadcasting messages of hope and rescue to our motley band of 'three hour cruise' castaways. (truly, that's the kind of special we are... able to upend a joy ride on the Crags of Doom with one well placed 'Actually... ')
But, this post isn't really about Brant. Or my ever-growing band of 'actually-friends' And it isn't an additional standard review for the sake of Brant's really great book. It's a more personal one... about where the book actually found me and truly did its speaking. It's about the frequency I locked in on.
If you routinely read what I write here, the season I'm walking through is no secret to you. I am not that far removed from the finalization of a fairly bitter divorce. After two decades, bitter is the only casket option for burying what one thought was love.
Still... bitter is actually bitter and not just a descriptive word. There are parts that linger like bile in the throat.
My ex-husband is remarried now (yeah, kinda fast...). I am still learning the balance between being truthful and respectful. I do not seek to disturb his new union or re-claim anything not my own, but I do often seek to identify some fragment or other poking up from the ash. What did it used to be ? Do I recognize it? What did it do? Are there any salvageable memories inside, any photos of the children?
Forgive me if I do a sloppy job.
During the divorce process, the children I devoted my life to, exchanging the pursuit of career for time spent with them and the opportunity to think, create and explore, were called between their father and me.
They gave affidavits to various official people and one gave deposition, swearing under oath that he no longer believed I love him. The whole thing was a heartbreaking mess. But when the smoke cleared, the way things have settled to this very day, is with my two eldest children estranged from relationship with me.
It is almost too heavy to explain. As I try, I feel the weight of lies roll over me again, occluding clear vision for onlookers, making everything echo as defensive. It feels too big to fix. Even now, I do not understand how, if He is willing, the Lord will untangle the knots that exist.
Sometimes, I go to bed thinking something like: "Well, c'mon though...since we're being honest, lies actually did get to win... "
On good nights, I turn on YouVersion's audio feature (thank you guys, for that!) and set the timer to 10 or so, praying myself to sleep as I listen for something comforting He may have to say. Sometimes it simply sounds like "...for now."
Other nights, well... there are other nights. I am thankful they are not the only nights.
Now, as a quick aside, I have to say that I love logical thinking. Logic puzzles? The best! And when I was homeschooling my children (we home educated for over ten years) we made a point to learn how to think as much as finding subjects to think about. We worked through The Thinking Toolbox and The Fallacy Detective. I'm a big fan of clear and thorough thinking.
And here is where that unique frequency thing Brant can do comes in.... I did not think to connect 'thinking' to my heart breaking. But along comes Brant with his pantyhose story... with his book about doubling down when we ought to repent...
This book was certainly about me.
But also it helped me see how some things may not actually be.
Some of my hard questions on those "other nights" when the dark steals in have been:
"How can they really think this is what their mom deserves, and their brother ?"
"How can they go along with versions that don't match the reality we were all in the same room for ?" and especially "How can they know the truth and still choose to hate me?"
The Truth About Us didn't let me off the hook, but it also helped me stop taking some things too personally.
This book doesn't really fix anything, except maybe, a little bit of me.
Exactly what I need
Frequently.
