Semper ubi sub ubi.
My years of Latin have left me with several tidbits of knowledge, including the phrase above, translated as “Always where under where” which got switched by high schoolers (to great delight) to “Always wear underwear.” Mrs. Ruhle also taught me all about Roman mythology, culture, history, and architecture.
Last, but not least, in my Latin classes, I learned a multitude of roots and prefixes that helped me develop my English vocabulary. I regularly use these roots and prefixes to this day.
One such word is anniversary, coming from “annus,” meaning “year,” and “vers,” meaning “to turn.”
An anniversary of any type really refers to the turning of the years.
2023—turn—2022—turn—2012—turn—2009—turn
This Thursday marks the 14th anniversary of the day I risked breaking my heart wide open once again and trusting a man to join my life and to join me in parenting my children. Both Anthony and I were scarred from previous relationships, and we both were aware how broken and twisted our paths had been to find each other.
Anthony and I married in a small church in the hills of the Blue Ridge Parkway, joined by family and dear friends. The day was chilly but bright and sunny. Our honeymoon was in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and we spent time with our boys before driving home to Texas.
What big dreams we had. What hope we had for a happily ever after.
Little did we know on that day that we would never make it to the year of 14, the year of ivory/gold.
Little did we know that he would leave me behind with so many questions and so few answers,
That he would leave me behind to sort through his belongings,
That he would leave me behind to figure out life again at age 53,
That life would turn topsy-turvy and leave me dumbfounded, struggling to make sense of it all,
That these moments in 2009 of dancing, love, and embracing would come to an end.
As Pete Seeger wrote, borrowing from Ecclesiastes 3,
“To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven.”
It is my season of turning—
It is now my season of death, of weeping, of mourning, of breaking down, and of loss.
How much my life has “turned” in the past year.
Facebook Memories is so good at reminding me how much life has changed within 365 days.
Or within 5 years—1825 days,
Or within 14 years—5110 days,
How my life changes from a season of gathering up stones to casting them away,
From a season of gain to a season of loss, from one of planting to one of reaping.
Life continues to change, continues to move, continues to turn.
It is easy to feel disoriented with such turning.
North, south, east, west, up, down—-all the directional constants become mixed.
Everything once known as a constant is now in question.
* * * * * * * *
No one rides a merry-go-round in a park without that sense of disorientation.
That old metal park ride brought me so many moments of pure joy and pure terror.
It involved begging someone to push and to run faster and faster and faster.
It involved me wrapping my legs around the metal handrail,
Wrapping my hands and arms around the handrail,
And screaming and yelling and laughing,
hair flying in the wind, the sun beating on my head.
It Involved me praying,
And bargaining with God,
And hoping that I would not go flying,
And hanging on for dear life,
And then moaning with disappointment when the metal disk slowed.
If we are honest, life is much like this.
We spend our time hoping for more,
And laughing,
And screaming,
And crying,
And then hanging on for dear life,
And then praying for it to be done,
And then hoping that we will survive,
And then praying for it to start up again.
Turn, turn, turn.
All I know on this day of this year, in this single season of my life,
as I ride this merry-go-round,
All I know is that I am not alone.
Others are on the ride with me.
* * * * * * *
Life is the most amazing ride there is.
It is also the most terrifying ride.
It makes me hold on and yet pulls at me to let go.
It causes me to laugh—-and cry—-and scream—and pray.
I am so grateful for those who have gotten on this wild ride of life with me,
Holding onto my hands,
Encouraging me,
Bringing me food,
Providing big hugs,
Texting me,
Hanging onto me when the winds and the turning almost tossed me off,
Providing directional signs for north, south, east, and west when I became disoriented,
And loving me throughout the past few months.
And I make this promise to anyone reading this as well:
as you ride this merry-go-round of life,
As life turns and turns,
When you get disoriented,
Or scared, or frightened, or discouraged,
My hand will be there right beside you, holding onto you, keeping you on the ride.
Just yell my name.
I am here.
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