Rule Breaker

It would be easier if there were rules. For me, anyway. Or maybe not. I'm not sure about much anymore. Grief has no recipe, no instruction although many have tried to give me the correct timeline and guide for how to do this journey properly.  Suggested books, gifts of workbooks, planned steps...and I guess at first I was excited to have a plan.  I'm a type A, oldest; following steps and guided instruction is my thing.

Until I realized there are no rules when it comes to grief.  Yes there are "stages," maybe, if you can recognize them when you're in them and you go through all five of them.  There are plenty of resources, definitely. But, everyone's personal grief journey is drastically different because each person has a separate relationship to their lost. I tried following the proper plan.  I was hopeful that it would draw this process to a swift, thorough close and we could all go on with our happy lives knowing that I did the hard work.  I put the time in, went through all five stages, finished the workbook and completed the journey.

But, I'm learning this journey is more complicated than that. I have my own grief journey workbook to write, and it's not for anyone else. I find great comfort in talking to other friends who have had similar losses, but my grief process may not work for them. Can we gather together, talk about our feelings, empathize with each other? Or course! I want that desperately. But, I will not push my personal grief journey upon them, as if we all have the same missing piece from our hearts. Theirs may be deeper, wider, more shallow, or obtuse.  Mine might be fresher, more razor sharp.

In the beginning, to borrow an illustration from a friend, I thought my canvas of grief would look precise, all colors would be coordinating and of course, stay in the lines. Almost like a paint by number.  But, now almost six months later, I can see that my piece is dark, abstract, messy and definitely outside of the lines.  I feel like painting far less than I expected I would.  I thought I would compose this grief canvas in a class with other artists, but I find myself creating this personal masterpiece much on my own, silently, away from the comforts of family and home.

I'm trying to be okay with breaking the rules.  It feels scary, very uncertain and unfamiliar.  What if I don't do this the right way? What if I miss a step and find myself having to go through it all over again in one year, five years, thirty years?  I guess, it doesn't have to mean I didn't do it right the first time. It could just mean that my heart needed to back to the studio and paint again.

Help me in my unbelief...

"Jesus said unto him, If thou canst believe." Mark 9:23 Here's my struggle, and it isn't a new one.  I wrestled with this question quite deeply soon after we lost Anna, our first-born baby girl.  I read and reread the story of the father who had a demoniac son in Mark chapter 9 and questioned whether or not my faith, or lack thereof, could have in anyway affected the outcome of our story. Since that time I have realized how little I have to do with anything, really; it's the sin in my heart that tempts to make myself bigger than I am or the "point" of every narrative.  I struggle  to sit in the background, to acknowledge that God is sovereign above all things, and that really, I have nothing to do with much of anything; only to seek His glory above all else and serve him where he has me.  But, now that I'm in a place of pain again, a vulnerable place of prayer and petition for an outcome I so deeply desire,  I read the story in Mark 9 and get stuck on these words: "Jesus said unto him, if thou canst believe..."

Shrieking Astonishment

My sweet T. His zest for life is inspiring, I wish I could say contagious. If only I could look at a bird, or a truck, or a kid on a bike and shriek in pure astonishment every single time. Life would be so fresh, so unwritten, so exciting.

Unfortunately, I live my life feeling somewhat complacent, almost bored because I know what comes next. Or do I? It feels like I do because our days involve so much routine. But, what if I didn't expect the same thing out of each day of routine? What if I obeyed God and risked a conversation with a stranger at the zoo, or helped an older woman at the weekly grocery trip.

Maybe God would be delighted in my efforts to find joy in the routine, excitement in the same-old-same-old. Maybe I would bring Him glory, and that, would bring me zest for life, contagious joy! Lord, help me to see each day as a gift from an awesome Creator who loves the life He breathed into me. Teach me to serve without restraint, to love without boundary and to forgive without thought. Amen.

Best wishes for a Happy Mother's Day...

Mother's Day...
I have pretty mixed emotions about this particular day of the year. My husband went shopping with T the other night, and today delivered my gift: A DVD Season 2 compliation of one of my all-time favorite sit-com/dramas, "Scrubs." It was thoughtful, because he knows how sad I am that my beloved characters are off the air as of this season, but, I felt myself longing for something a bit more...I don't know, heartfelt.

But, that's my problem with pre-scheduled, "hallmark" holidays. I have these expectations that always get in the way of really, truly appreciating the gifts from those I love and the thought they put into them. Maybe it has something to do with Love Languages (mine is NOT gifts, I'm pretty sure) or maybe the root of it is simply my own self-centerdness and my sinful desire to have everyone in my house love me as much as I do...

Really, all I want for Mother's day is some quality time with my boys, a visit to Anna's grave with them, and some heartfelt loving words and a hug from my little T & husband. I expect that hubby should know this and already have it planned, but in reality (now, sit down girls), Men actually CAN'T read our minds. I know, I know, shocker.

If you're a mom, enjoy your special day of the year when its actually scheduled on the Western calendar to honor you and thank you. If you're not, or are wishing you were (I know this day is miserable for you, especially), then give your mom what she really wants...a great big HUG and a heartfelt word of love.