What is Normal?

The seas were violent that day. The gray of the sky and the gray of the water were only broken by the white caps of a million billowing waves that stretched endlessly across the English Channel.   

The France to England bound tickets we held for the hovercraft catamaran ferry were useless.  It couldn’t operate under these torrential conditions.  We were told that we could instead board the cruise-ship-like ferry. So my sister and mother and I looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders, it seemed to be the only way.  We boarded the ship - whether it be an act of faith or like lambs to the slaughter, we weren’t quite sure but as the true shoppers that we are…we headed straight to the gift shop to purchase anything that could help us with the inevitable threat of sea sickness and a postcard!  We found ourselves in long lines and the ship departed while we were making our purchases.  The ship, that seemed so large and sea worthy from the dock was now being tossed and battered like the toy tugboats in my son’s bathtub!  Making our way to our seats through the corridor we were thrown from one side to the other, unable to hold on to the handrails.  But we made the decision to put our faith in the Lord and our trust in the captain and reached our seats. The long and nauseating journey ended nearly two hours later and with trembling legs we disembarked on the English shore.

Many years later on a journey back from Ireland to Italy, the English Channel once again divided my smooth travel plans.  Dale was calm with his decision, hmmmm let’s make that nearly giddy with his decision to purchase tickets for the Chunnel; the 20 minute journey by train that goes beneath the churning sea into a dark and buried tunnel (at depths I didn’t want to consider) and speeds its way to France.  I shrugged my shoulders and thought well it beats the two hour journey across the waves right?  RIGHT??   The high speed train smoothly left the station as we sat comfortably (although a bit fidgety on my part) in our cozy seats.  I held Dale’s reassuring hand and watched the English countryside pass by as we worked our way towards the shore.  Suddenly darkness outside the window, a relentless darkness that seemed to go on and on and I remembered something Corrie Ten Boom wrote in her book The Hiding Place:  “When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off.  You sit still and trust the engineer.”  So I took a sip of my soda, nibbled on my scone and smiled at Dale who gave me his reassuring “Everything is going to turn out fine” look.

It has been a long two year journey.  This passage through life without Dale by my side.  I have encountered many violent waves and dark tunnels.  I have also experienced many moments of joy, delivered directly to my heart and soul through my faith and trust in the Lord (my Captain and Engineer) and the love of my dear angels on both sides of the veil. My earthly angels, who have sacrificed for me, succored me and have given me their unconditional love; my Dale who has orchestrated things from his side of the veil and my departed parents and grandparents whose stories and strengths have given me guidance and hope as I seek to regain some form of normalcy again in my life.

One big thing that I have discovered is that “normal” is a moving target. What was normal for over 40 years with Dale by my side 24/7 is not what’s normal now.  Even though I have established a comfortable daily routine which could be considered my new normal, I also still experience moments of that dark tunnel journey when the absolute silence and void that is and can only be called "Aloneness" is also a normal thing now but so is my faith and prayers and the “pull myself up and out of it” techniques that I can grab quickly and put to use:

I’m aware that I am a visual person who needs beauty to “keep down the overwhelm”.  I escape into music, or focus on the incredible complexity of God’s natural creations, or watch the most recent videos my son sends of my granddaughter flipping through the air off gymnastics bars and landing as softly as a butterfly or my grandson riding his bike without training wheels for the first time with his family woohooing and cheering as he makes his successful journey across the empty parking lot; or click on a comedy show…or just imagining Dale’s hand on mine assuring me that everything is going to turn out just fine. 

You know it seems that the most normal people I see are the ones that I don’t know very well!  The ones who seem to be sailing happily along on perpetually calm seas.  LOL. Yet in spite of myself, that’s the normal that I seek!

And yet… as Boyd K. Packer said; “It was meant to be that life would be a challenge.  To suffer some anxiety, some depression, even some failure is normal.”

My sister and I laughed at ourselves the other day while musing that along with our normal daily tasks we also seem to be given normal daily tests!

Do these tests and the challenge to pass them make for a more interesting life than sailing along on endlessly serene and unbroken seas? Does calling upon our faith and trust and continuously developing a better understanding of “What’s life all about anyway” make for a better journey?  I somewhat reluctantly must say it is.

And I've heard it said that “Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he’s been robbed. The fact is that most putts don’t drop,  most beef is tough, most children grow up to just be people, most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration, most jobs are more often dull than otherwise….The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride.”

So what is normal?  I suppose it’s a comfortable acceptance and even a gratitude that life changes, on a daily basis. It’s normal to expect that each day will be filled with challenges and filled with joy. It’s normal to experience a of myriad of emotions. From fear to loneliness, to ever changing challenges and some failures, to success and joy and unexpected answers and little miracles.

I look out of my window now, the skies are gray and rain is in the forecast, heavy rain…I’ve spent a silent and quiet Sunday morning writing and I’m alone…..but I’m fine.  It’s all quite normal.