Lisa has always told me if I would just write my feelings instead of speaking them to her we’d have the perfect marriage.
Unfortunately, I haven’t quite perfected that so inevitably I say things that are insensitive, judgmental, and unhelpful.
I give advice when Lisa just needs a sounding board.
I am quiet when she wants me to say something.
I give my input when she hasn’t asked for it.
I hold back my input when she wants it.
It’s all very confusing, but I learned one thing back during our infertility days that still works to this day:
I can always be a soft place to fall.
I wrote an entire chapter in the book about this.
Our “soft place to fall” was Nashville, Tennessee.
For some reason, the spirit of a baby we lost to miscarriage a few days before our tenth wedding anniversary spoke to me to go and make a go of singer/songwriting in Nashville.
I’ve told that story many times on this blog.
Nashville was a place where we could escape the never ending world of pregnancies that seemed to be growing around us in Tucson.
Lisa was so filled with nervous excitement for me before I would play, and I was so nervous about playing, that the heartache of all the failed infertility cycles back home was forgotten for seconds, then minutes, then hours, and then days.
That break helped rejuvenate us.
But it wasn’t just that.
Without all the noise of cycle protocols, and “what do we do next”, we could actually just listen to each other’s hearts.
My shoulder was there to cushion those tears as they fell without any distractions of work, or any phone messages announcing another pending birth.
The tears Lisa cried in Nashville were because she was connecting to our future baby.
She said she could feel our baby there.
I never really understood it, but there was a healing that took place on those trips that gave her the strength to go back and fight another day.
She didn’t need my advice, or my feedback, or my anger over the indignities or injustice of infertility.
She just needed my shoulder.
I learned that just being a soft place for her tears to fall, was all she really needed.
I wrote a song based on the entire experience.
A Soft Place To Fall.
It never really made it that far in the Nashville circles because they kept saying they didn’t understand why they guy would be willing to give up his life to take away the pain of some other guy saying goodbye.
I didn’t bother explaining that the “he” in the song referred to the baby we lost that summer. If you have to explain it, then more than likely the song won’t be understood by the audience.
But I couldn’t change it, because I had written the song for Lisa.
For the little boy I sensed had urged me to head out there.
Here it is. I’ll post the MP3, once I get technically savvy enough to add it to the media that is already on there.
A Soft Place To Fall
I always thought I knew how to get your through
Times when you were feeling your heart break
But tears still fill your eyes since he said goodbye
No matter what I do or say
I know there’s no way I can fill up the space
His leaving has left in your soul
One thing I can do is give my shoulder to you
When you feel like you’re losing it all
So you tears always have
A soft place to fall
Don’t get me wrong…I know you’re strong
I’m sure you can survive this on your own
But your secret’s safe with me if you fell a little weak
And just don’t want to be alone
I know there’s no way I can fill up the space
His leaving has left in your soul
One thing I can do is give my shoulder to you
When you feel like you’re losing it all
So you tears always have
A soft place to fall
If I had wings I’d fly straight to heaven’s gate
Offer up my soul in trade
If God would take your pain away
I know there’s no way I can fill up the space
His leaving has left in your soul
One thing I can do is give my shoulder to you
When you feel like you’re losing it all
So you tears always have
A soft place to fall