- NEW BLOG: God. Some thoughts on God and loss... http://t.co/1KXOKzVF http://t.co/jwIEiDJk September 28, 2012
- NEW BLOG: God. Some thoughts on God and loss... http://t.co/1KXOKzVF http://t.co/bbweRmvM September 28, 2012
- Vote for your favorite and get it for a steal!! http://t.co/GwiivlAv September 18, 2012
- @MamaTreeHugger thx - it was a powerful experience...I have a whole other blog to share about it... Maybe u can join us next yr :) September 18, 2012
- Stella & Dot has some exciting bling for those who support Breast Cancer research. I'm booking fundraisers and... http://t.co/b2XUqWd6 September 18, 2012
My mom was beating me. To the point where she didn’t know if she would do something unimaginable. She told me:
“The last time, I came too and you were in the air dropping to the ground.”
The help she asked for from family was not possible but it was suggested that she seek out the local church, they would help. And they did.
God. Saved my life.
That church became my family. I still think deeply of them as a part of my family. People who helped to care for me and shape me. People who loved my mother when she must have been feeling so alone as an 8th grade educated 20year old single mother. Her options were limited by her life experience, but here, she was promised unlimited possibilities. Because she believed in those possibilities, I grew up with them too. I thank my mother for many things, but this is one of the greatest.
I haven’t shared very much of my faith here. I’m not sure why, except that I find it to be a very personal relationship experience that I’ll share if it seems helpful but otherwise, I would rather it not be tainted by assumptions or negativity. As I have grown, I have tried to learn that I’m not smarter than God. I’ve tried to move and stay in a place of 100% no judgement against others. And I want to live my life open to God – not limited by earthly labels, ideas and interpretations. And so I guess if I am being honest, I didn’t want the common labels that are associated with God believers – pushy, judgmental and closed minded.
But early on in this journey with my mom, I could feel a different kind of stirring. A different kind of feeling emerging. Not a calling. Not even that quiet voice. Maybe just the knowing that just like my earthly relationship was going to change with my mom, so was my relationship with God. This experience was going to force me to go to places that would be too deep for me not to share at risk of imploding. What’s the point of experience if we don’t share it. Seems like squandered wisdom.
I think another reason I haven’t shared much of my belief, thoughts or feelings about God is that I often feel like an outsider. Resisting at some level the man made institution that is called “church” today and the challenges that come with anything man made – I beat my own christian drum, which has put me in a position of only having two true christian friends.
One of the reasons I am an advocate of health and natural medicine is because of my belief in God. Believing that He gave us everything we need to be healthy, stay healthy or regain health. And He also created us to thirst for knowledge and in turn make amazing advancements in medicine that I do support when we’ve pushed the limits. Growing up it was taught that our bodies were our temples, that were to be used for God’s glorification – so our quest is to keep them pure in heart and, well functioning.
“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you… Therefore honor God with your body,” –1 Cor. 6:19-20.
Growing up this mostly included lessons in “don’t smoke, drink or do drugs”. So as a young natural mom so excited by all this new natural health info I was learning and being made aware of all the other ways we are harming “our temple” – the most resistant I would ever share with was members of the church. I started realizing the astounding amounts of people sick with cancer and other serious illness within the church walls. It became challenging to feel apart of the community where there was no bridge between faith and a mind/body/soul connection.
“As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.”– Proverbs 23:7
And so, I do my best to find my place within the community while honoring my own hearts truths of natural health and living. We are doing our best to expose our children to faith without them feeling there is a myriad of rules to “get into heaven”. We want to raise children who have a foundation of faith without building it with walls of judgement.
Ok, so that gives you some churchy background on me. Who cares? Why start sharing it now?
Well, a part of it is an ongoing motivation to be truthful and authentic. If I feel the need or want to censor this relationship experience in fear of being judged…I’m losing that battle. And like I said above, I have been very aware that big changes are happening in this realm of my life.
I shared in my post, My Shack, how I have been pouting, tantruming and feeling at times “mad at God”. A few times I have gotten really snarky with Him saying “take them (my husband and kids) all away….what do you care.” When not emotional, this type of thinking seems completely ridiculous to me. But when in that dark place of grief and sadness, it is almost beyond my control to stop the angry fist shake at God. I try to not worry about it. I don’t have all the answers. Maybe those are the only human words that connect with how deep my grief is, maybe it’s just human to blame “someone”, anyone, to feel justified in shedding so many tears. And maybe God just knows that He’s the only one strong enough to hold such pain and be forgiving. Whatever the reason, I’m thankful for the love and grace I feel when I leave those dark emotional times and feel some inner peace.
Recently as I have entered some these emotional moments, I feel like He’s as sad as I am. The Universe, Life, weeps with me. They don’t want me to hurt, cry and question. Through my tears, I watch my beautiful healthy kids. As I feel the lonely pain of losing my best friend, another friend takes my hand. As I struggle to find new ways to cope in almost all areas of my life, I read the exact right thing, watch the exact right show, the answer is right there. As I feel all the painful emotions that go with losing someone, my eyes have never been more open to the abundance of love and blessings in my life. Only something bigger, more powerful than myself could make that happen.
As so much of what I thought I knew is stripped away. What is revealed is something deeper and more meaningful. More than ever before I feel so connected with all living things. The weather, animals and the beating of Life itself. I tried to kind of share this idea in my post butterflies. All of sudden I wonder, does He send these symbols, signs, feelings within nature that allow me to know how much he wants to comfort me, wants me to know how close He is, that He cares. Is the Universe saying, “I’m this close, so is she.” I don’t know. Right now in this moment, that message doesn’t bring me comfort, because I don’t want her to be “close”, I want her to be here with me. But if butterflies and unseasonal sunshine are what is offered, I’ll take it.
I shared in my post angel day about how it’s a gift to be in the presence of someone who is transitioning to a life after death. Now that I have experienced this twice, I can say that there is an acceptance and deep peace that I can only imagine comes from being so close to the afterlife world. This spirit in your midst, the passageway of Life open to them, all that energy sweeping the area bidding them to come – inadvertently offered me a peace and acceptance of what I was witnessing – the end of this person’s life and the life you knew up until this point. I wish I could hold on to that feeling and sometimes I do feel it – but it seems like the memories and all the things we miss cloud my connection.
Doubt. Everything I have believed – I have questioned. Some things consciously, some unconscious. As my mom believed she would heal her body with natural medicine, I knew it wasn’t happening. I’ve had to dwell a lot on the fact that natural medicine seemingly did nothing for her. Where was the power of God’s medicine when it counted the most? Prayers were said, they seemingly were not answered. What could have been said to have the pleas heard, and answered? My mom who had grew up and lived a lot of physical, emotional and mental abuses and challenges – was not spared hardship when it came to the end of her life. Painfully, slowly and unrelenting – her body was consumed by illness. Why? If it was her time to go, why like this?
When I can put the emotion aside and quietly listen – I can sometimes hear the answers. Answers for where I am today. I know that when I sat in the church on Sunday mornings and there was the list of sick to pray for – my expectation was that if we all prayed “enough” that God would reach down and miraculously heal the sick we loved so much. *Smerk* As I got older, I became jaded about prayer and the list of the sick…seemed like a waste of time. No one I knew was miraculously or spontaneously healed or even got remotely better for that matter. As the prayers went up asking God to reach down…maybe the whole lesson was always that we were meant to be reaching up. Reaching within us for places we take for granted. Places that resemble “new age” meditation…instead of our inadequate human words that are repeated over and over because we have nothing else to offer and at some point lose meaning, even to us. I couldn’t reach up for my mom, no one could. She had to do the work…not me, not God. All the answers where available to her – God did not withhold any miracles from my mom – she just wasn’t able to reach up and feel deserving of what she was promised. The doubt ebbs and flows as I walk this journey – maybe that is just one other of the mysteries of God’s grace that is beyond human understanding.
We went to church on Sunday and one of the songs we sang had the words “I sing to you because you love me” ….all of a sudden I was faced with this idea that once again this had happened because I was/am bad. I am being punished. As I was blotting my eyes so I wouldn’t have natural mascara all over my face I thought about what it’s like to be a parent. Part of parenting is allowing your children to live out the natural consequences of life, so they can hopefully learn to make different decisions next time. I thought about all the times my kids have gotten hurt and I wasn’t able to stop it. The fact that bad things happen to my kids, has no bearing on how much I love them. If God is my “heavenly father”….why is my expectation any different? Why do the rules change for Him because he’s all powerful and all knowing…I don’t think they do. I believe that just like I try to be a just parent treating all my kids the same in terms of offering them what they need to grow up – so is God. BUT just like my kids resist and don’t understand why we allow the consequences and can’t stop the scrapped knees – I am doing the same with God. I guess it’s time to grow up and stop blaming God for choices He didn’t make.
I have several other insights and experiences. But these are the ones roll in and out of my grieving experience. I don’t know that everyone or anyone else for that matter would come to the same ideas or conclusions but God saved my life when I was two, offering me the love of strangers. God changed my life and it’s direction when he let me hold a small baby with a broken heart. And now, once again, I feel the power of the Universe as I am challenged to accept that this had to happen to be saved and changed in deep ways that I have yet to uncover.
This is hard. So much harder than I ever could have imagined. But knowing I have been carried, caught and saved in the past – I cling to the only constant knowing I have ever known. God.Tweet
What happens when your mom dies of cancer but you don’t support cancer research? This is what I thought about as I ran The Terry Fox run yesterday.
So first, let me say that I do support the idea of cancer research. As a natural mom, someone who believes that our bodies are made to heal themselves, that our brains are our most powerful pharmacies and that my higher power gave me everything I need in the form of food, plant or thought, to be well – what I would like to see is more research into all of those things. I would like to see more research on what makes one person seemingly more susceptible to cancer than another. That, is information that would save lives…not more powerful drugs that kill rogue cancer cells and immune systems.
But, when I heard that my mom had cancer my intuition didn’t go to natural solutions, it was those drugs. It wasn’t out of fear, or really any emotion for that matter…it was just intuition. As she firmly set out to heal herself naturally, I kept saying “let’s keep all our options on the table”. The conventional medicine card was one she never considered let alone played. And as we went through the journey it was a constant struggle - she was making the health choices I would like to believe I would make if I was faced with the same fate…but inside as I watched her struggle to swallow supplements, drink juice and eat new foods within only the first few weeks, I knew that natural healing might be more gentle on your body – it is not on your mind.
As I ran I thought about Terry Fox. If he was alive today would his outcome be different because of the advances of the research done in his memory? My mom had options. She didn’t choose those options but without cancer research, there might not have been very many options or, very many good options. And so, yesterday as I ran I contemplated all of this, as an advocate of prevention, natural healing and a daughter still trying to find peace with what cancer took from me.
I thought about Terry and the fact that he made a choice to do something. That alone is such a powerful lesson. He had a dream and he took action – which in turn has ignited so many others to do the same. At one point on the run I said to my friend “If Terry could keep going, so can we.” And so my thoughts floated there for awhile, thinking about the power of taking action. He put his action toward cancer research. I have the choice to take action to advocate for whatever I feel the answer might be. Maybe everyone’s individual passion, individual action is where we find the cure.
I thought about the importance of exercise. I’ve been running for a few weeks now and a part of my drive is to take care of myself. Something my mother could never do for herself. I’ve known for years that I need to incorporate some exercise into my schedule but to be completely honest, I like sleeping in, I’ve been gifted with a genetically thin body and I just wanted to believe that I was doing enough by what I put in my mouth. I had the information all along, I knew what my body needed, I just didn’t do it.
As we all walked/ran/biked together, I wondered how many people would have missed this beautiful morning and the chance to move their bodies had they not been inspired by a young boy. Not that I think one day of exercise is all you need – but how many who were walking might be inspired by the runners and might decide to go out again next Sunday. We just don’t know. Maybe there are a few dusty bikes that have been hidden in garages that will see or have seen the sunlight because young kids, my kids rode for a dream.
Like I said, I have been running for a few weeks now. As a goal my friend who is helping me to train wanted to register for a 5k run. I told her right off that I was not interested in running in any cancer fundraisers. I have always done my best to focus on what I had, what I still have and where I am going. I don’t believe we need a cure for cancer – I believe there are many natural cures for cancer. So to run for that purpose always seemed to conflict with my beliefs and where I want my focus to be. I don’t want to run focusing on what took my mom away – I want to run for something that will make the world better for generations to come.
Yet, as we ran and passed people on the route I found myself feeling like there was a connection we all had, just because we were present. The mom who was running with a bristol board on her back with photos of her son who had passed away. Another couple who had a cute little peanut girl just walking, who hung a t-shirt of their older daughter over their stroller. I saw myself. As I watched the little girl walk across the grass I thought of us 11 years before with little Cameron filling our life with some light after what seemed like the biggest loss we could experience. I watched the woman with the photos of her son who ran to the finish and smiled “I did it!!”
Maybe I needed this reminder that Life is why we are running. Each step a testament to those of us who choose to wake up every morning, feel the pain, the loss, the heartbreak and take a deep breath and step into our day – filling it with courage and goodness. Maybe we have found the cure we are looking for – each other, hope, living testaments of new dreams.
I believe so strongly in the power of our thoughts and the amazing things our mind can intend. But like my mom, I know that many cannot take the natural road to healing. So for that, I am reconsidering my strong stance on not supporting any cancer research. Everyone should have as many options as possible when faced with a body out of balance. I don’t believe my mom died because there isn’t a formal cure for cancer so, I will have to reflect if there is an opportunity to share and possibly inspire others from our experience. Until then, when I choose to run, I will because I can. I will run because, if it means someone else feels supported and cared for – it means we are that much closer to something more important than a cure for cancer. I will run in hopes of sharing some inspiration and hope….just like Terry Fox.Tweet
This morning I drove Craig to work so that I could have the car to go visit a friend. We reached the highway turn off and waited for the light to change. There stood a pretty normal looking guy with a small sign “NO WORK TWO KIDS….” and I didn’t read the rest. I looked away. And then I looked at my hand. A Starbucks.
I said to Craig half joking “well better put this down so I don’t feel guilty” and reached for my wallet. He says “Don’t give him money because you feel guilty”…and I just look at him with a smerk – “of course not”.
I pull out a a couple toonies and a loonie and give it to Craig to give to him. He comes over and says “Thanks”.
Craig and I continue our morning chatter and the kids ask:
“Daddy, why did you do that?” “What did we give him?” “Who is that?”
I answer “We gave the man the some money. But it’s not about the money, it’s about showing him that we care about him.”
WOW! Where did that come from? Was that a burst of inspiration or what!?
We’ve never really addressed the issue with the kids and to be honest, Craig and I don’t 100% agree with each other on giving to those on the street. Most of the time we don’t have any cash on us so it’s not even something we need to consider.
As I thought more about the words that seemed to flow out of my mouth that seemingly were not my own, I can only be thankful and suspect that the gifts of giving that my mother gave to many in abundance somehow were an influence.
Even though I never remember being told that we should help to feed or give to those less fortunate – our family table often seated those who needed a meal, whether it be from a lack of time, money or spirit – dessert was the encouragement that only friendship could fill a needy heart.
As needy hearts entered our home and sat at our table and shared with my mom – I learned that people were more important than things. That money helps, but your personal time heals. That the fact we have a home to live in and food to make – means that we are wealthy enough to share.
And the very most important part of giving I learned by the example of my mom’s giving was that the reason for the need didn’t matter – the person was, is.
The words I shared with my children were not words of great reflection or contemplation. They were the honest flowing of what beats through my being because of what a pure example of giving my mom was to her world. It’s a priceless gift that up until this morning I had not realized had influenced my life at such a deep level.
I’m thankful that this morning my eyes saw the person…that might go and squander the pennies I and others gave him. Might not have two kids. Might go and drink it away. I’m glad my heart saw the person who might have needed to reminded that he is important, just for being here. I’m thankful that this morning I had my mom’s eyes and heart.
This is a cute a little everyday dress I got at Joe Fresh last summer. Perfect for taking the kids to the park or running errands. I’ve paired this easy style with rose gold. If I were so lucky to get invited out for drinks with the girls on the fly – I would change up my necklace to the Gitane Tassel Necklace and head out the door!
Get the look:
Dress: Joe Fresh
Shoes: Old Navy
The Ear Candy:
The Arm Party:
Make it a girls night out with:
Retail Therapy starts HERE.
Learn how you could get all these jewels for FREE.
Earn what your worth while looking fabulous.Tweet
The week after my mom passed away – butterflies appeared.
Herein lies the deepest symbolic lesson of the butterfly. She asks us to accept the changes in our lives as casually as she does. The butterfly unquestioningly embraces the changes of her environment and her body.
This unwavering acceptance of her metamorphosis is also symbolic of faith. Here the butterfly beckons us to keep our faith as we undergo transitions in our lives. She understands that our toiling, fretting and anger are useless against the turning tides of nature – she asks us to recognize the same.
A quick-list of Butterfly animal symbolism:
Interestingly, in many cultures the butterfly is associated with the soul – further linking our animal symbolism of faith with the butterfly.
You can read more about the butterfly as a symbol here.
I’ve never been one to really get the idea of meaning through symbols or things. When I would hear someone say “when I see….I know she is with me” or “I saw…and knew he was giving me his approval”…you know, birds, shooting stars, rainbows. I have to admit that within myself I rolled my eyes. I believed that it was a crutch, a way to hang on and not let go.
At the beginning of the year my aunt would come and visit my mom and sing to her and play guitar. She would always take my mom’s requests first and near the end when mom could only handle hearing one or two songs before being too tired, she would request Love is like a Butterfly. I had never heard the song before so found it surprising, but it was the one she wanted to hear everytime.
Love is like a butterfly, As soft and gentle as a sigh
The multicolored moods of love are like its satin wings
Love makes your heart feel strange inside
It flutters like soft wings in flight
Love is like a butterfly, a rare and gentle thing
As we were making plans for her memorial so many things blurred within the waves of emotion, the strange feeling of her spirit not being present and trying to arrange logistics. I happened to look at her iPod and noticed that she had the song in her playlist. Then while looking for something else I fell upon these cards she had made for herself for a project we were working on. On them were character traits she felt were her strongest and she decorated them with, butterflies. I realized that for whatever reason this symbol kept coming up and decided to go with it for the memorial.
I feel it when you’re with me
It happens when you kiss me
That rare and gentle feeling that I feel inside
Your touch is soft and gentle
Your kiss is warm and tender
Whenever I am with you I think of butterflies
As we prepared for the memorial the weather was warm and we enjoyed the unseasonal warm weather. One day after noticing the abundance of butterflies flying around at the beginning of April I couldn’t help but ask out loud “Is it just me or are there A LOT of butterflies this year?” That’s when Cameron piped up and said “I was sitting at my window and a big orange one, a monarch?, came and landed on it. I’ve never seen that before.” And he was right, there had never been an abundance of butterflies in or around our yard and now everytime we stepped outside it seemed we would see several. Whether I wanted it to happen or not, the connection had been made that these butterflies were somehow connected to my mom.
Your laughter brings me sunshine
Everyday is spring time
And I am only happy when you are by my side
How precious is this love we share
How very precious, sweet and rare
Together we belong like daffodils and butterflies
As we finished with the memorial and started to figure how to put the pieces of our lives back in place after walking away from so much of it 6 months earlier, there were still butterflies. I would sit outside to watch the kids play outside and all of sudden there would be 3, 4, 5 flying around. The girls would dance around trying to catch them and my eyes would fill with tears. I didn’t want butterflies, I wanted her. I didn’t want the kids to be chasing butterflies but chasing her to the park. But as the girls would run up and say “wow, mommy! look at all these” I would just nod and smile.
It was also around this same time that Ella would ask me it seemed every spare moment she had if she could have my music and would ask me to find Nana’s butterfly song…and she would play it and play it and play it. She would lay there and listen to it. She would walk around listening to it. She would sing to it. The one day I asked her if she wanted to listen to any other song and she looked at me like I had lost my marbles “no, mama I just want butterfly song (*smerk*)”.
And so over the summer I have continued to find this butterfly symbol. The last Christmas gift she gave me is an angel holding a butterfly – the angel of freedom. My mother’s day gift a tea set with a pattern of birds and butterflies. Cards she made with and for the girls covered in butterflies. Paintings I had never seen, flowers and butterflies. Even butterflies in her stitching. I sometimes wonder if she even realized how she surrounded herself with this symbol of change and freedom.
I can understand a bit more now why someone might cling to an earthly symbol, at least for a time. Perhaps for comfort. Perhaps because of the fear that you might forget. Maybe because it seems unreachable to go where they are and these symbols feel somehow like a bridge. Or maybe it’s to keep the magic of life a mystery as we ponder whether these signs and symbols really do have the meaning we give them. Maybe it’s just a natural thing as we unconsciously realize that all things are connected and that each one of us effects every other thing.
Summer is coming to end and so will the little white butterflies that have graced my yard everyday. But for some reason I expect to still be blessed with “a rare and gentle thing.”
Love is like a butterfly
As soft and gentle as a sigh
The multicolored moods of love are like its satin wings
Love makes your heart feel strange inside
It flutters like soft wings in flight
Love is like a butterfly, a rare and gentle thing
My mother disliked funerals. She somehow could not wrap her head around the idea that those sharing would only share the positive memories. I think her feeling was that it was a fake representation of life. I would lightheartedly joke with her and remind her that everyone already knew how imperfect the person was – they were trying to let them go out on a high note. She would just roll her eyes and smerk. I suppose that’s why I felt it appropriate to read my final words at her memorial – a reminder that she indeed was not perfect.
I have found it interesting that when I find myself thinking of her I rarely think of the things that I disliked and always the things that made her SO great. And when I do think of those things that were challenges for me I realize that they probably were not as bad as I thought at the time. I realize now that what she gave greatly outweighed her imperfections.
Death. The great equalizer.
As I’ve been contemplating how our minds seemingly erase the bad and only think of the good of those who have passed on, I think, there must something that happens in that moment. Like forgiveness. My mother was definitely not perfect, and I know there are moments that I will need to come to terms with as I move along this journey. But as I reflect on that moment where I wet her lips and realized that she had just taken her last breaths. Knowing I was no longer looking at my mom but a spiritless body – forgiveness covered me and her. My expectations disappeared. My memories immediately focused on everything good she had ever given. The disappointment, regret or anger moved to an inner back room that only needs to be visited for reference. As I think back to that moment, I can still feel how everything within me changed. I was filled with overflowing gratitude as memories flashed through my mind. The car trips, the music, the stitching, going to the park, her excitement, the family dinners, movie nights, the talks…her hugs. The tears being that I knew it was over – the creation of memories with her, was over. This forgiveness of all her imperfections that seemed to occur at the knowing of death, is a gift.
I think a lot about what this means for my life. Why does it matter.
It matters because my children will likely have their moment of knowing death. They will be in the presence of their imperfect mother and in the next moment be washed with the gentleness of love and forgiveness as they realize that she is no longer with them in this earthly realm. And I want them to have so many things to miss and be thankful for, just like I do. I want them to remember as I do that their mother was imperfect so that they move life forward, but be filled with how perfect their mom was when she gave more than she took, she dreamed bigger dreams, she made little things matter, she danced silly, she said yes more than no, her brutal honesty, she did her best, and wherever she was, is -was and is their forever home.
Death, where imperfection meets perfection. As death’s gift of forgiveness washes away all imperfections, what is left is the perfection we shared on earth. My hope is that I can leave as many perfect memories for those I have loved here on earth, as my mom has left me.
Day 1: 6:30am
Zoe watching tv in the dark
Me: getting yogurt and water
Zoe: (Without looking up) “hi dad”….. (she looks)
Zoe: “Oh, hi mom, what are you doing?”
Me: “Going to exercise”
Day 2 – 7:40am
Me: Getting breakfast
Zoe: (talking to herself) “…well daddy is the one who has always been awake this early – for his whole life…”
Zoe: “Mommy are you sick?”
Me: “No, I’m going to exercise”
May 2, 2012
It’s a warm day today. The sun makes me sad right now. The sun is a reminder of what my kids are missing. The sun will be a constant reminder all summer that she is gone. Forever.
At the end of 2010 I read the wildly popular book The Shack. It’s a story about a loss and a special experience this person has one day. It was a powerful read for me and I started thinking about it today…I wish I had my own Shack to go to. I want my facetime with God.
What I feel…
I want my time to beat on His chest and scream “Why wasn’t I worth enough to keep my person”. “Why aren’t my kids worth enough to have their Nana?” “Why couldn’t you just change things, why did you have to take it all away?”
What I believe…
I believe that there is great loss in death when someone has given great love. I believe that we live out the consequences of our choices, which our Higher Power will often let carry out. I believe that Life has so much of a bigger plan for me that I need to cling to trust in these moments when I feel like I may never feel pure joy again without the sigh of sadness that she is not here to experience it with us.
June 27th, 2012
When I wrote this I wasn’t ready to share it and it’s possible I couldn’t see the sceen through my tears to continue writing.
Since writing this I have often felt like I am experiencing an ongoing tantrum with God. As I question “why me”, “why her”, “why now”…being angry that I have to do this Life without her. Wanting so much to be with her that I secretly wish the physical pain in my heart as my tears fall will mean I can go and be with her. And then feeling resentment that it’s not going to happen.
What I have realized is that I am in my shack with God. And I am having a tantrum, there is no doubt about that.
But God is a loving, patient, very patient in fact, parent. As I flail my arms and kick my feet. As I yell and scream horrible things at Him. As I blame Him for how deeply my heart hurts. As I taunt Him, “take it all away…you don’t care.”
He holds me.
Closer to his chest as my tears fall sometimes for a long time, out of my control. Sometimes farther away as I release the heat of my anger. Sometimes, just holding my hand as we walk quietly through the small moments of Life that right now seem daunting and trying without this Love I had for 35 years.
He has met me in my shack. He is staying there with me.
While I go through my many emotions, I am comforted to be covered with a Love I have experienced before. A Love I miss. A Love that has led me to my shack. The only difference is that this Love that I feel in my shack, can never be taken away.Tweet
Heat wave. Hot car. Visiting with one of my favorite aunties. Long line up behind us.
Her: “Can I take your order?”
Me: I’ll have two medium drinks……..do you have any triple chocolate cookies?
Her: “No, we have *crackle crackle* chocolate, white macadamia nut & *crackle crackle* peanut butter.
Me: Ok, I’ll have 6 of the first kind.
Her. No, I only have 4.
Me: Ok, I’ll have 2 macadamia.
Her: “No, I only have 1.”
Me: *small chuckle* Ok, ok, can I just have 6 cookies please, of whatever….
Her: “ok, ok.”
I look at my aunt…contemplation – is this annoying or the funniest thing ever?
Both of us roaring with laughter….it’s the funniest thing ever.Tweet