The journey of grieving.
I was starting to wonder what was wrong with me. I didn't really enjoy being with myself. I was always so tired. I felt grumpy and unfriendly. I was overwhelmed so easily by small things. Then I realized, "Oh, I am still grieving."
I have some experience with the strange manifestations of grief from when my grandmother died. Several months after she died I didn't feel consciously sad. If you would have asked me I would have told you I was fine. In fact, I did tell my mother that repeatedly. Finally she said, "You have been so quiet and don't want to be around people as much, you just seem different from your normal self. Do you think you might still be struggling with grandma's death?" Yes. I realized I was. I really missed my grandma. She lived next door. We would go out to dinner every Friday with her. Even if she did prefer to go to grandma-ie places (places with daily specials, buffets, or crackling vinyl covering the booths) we were delighted to go out as a newly married couple with no money to eat out. She played scrabble with me, did puzzles, gave such wonderful hugs. She trusted God. She brought over baked goods to share on a regular basis. She taught me how to make Aunt Esther's Swedish rye bread. The loss of her was deeply felt. Yet, I didn't realize how much or how long I would take to go through the process of mourning such loss.
I draw on that past experience now. I haven't felt what I would call, "sad" on a regular basis. In fact, before today it has been months since Ive cried about my baby girl. I just feel misplaced, like something inside me is a bit lost, maybe hidden on a back shelf somewhere. Perhaps this hidden part is my innocence, blind trust that everything will be okay. Maybe it is gone forever.
Maybe something that is being forged in the midst of difficulty and pain is a trust that is stronger. My Father, he has not let me down. I feel like He has at times. I wonder. But in my heart I carry the substance of Christ. The spirit within me that raised Christ from the dead bears witness with this truth of God. The truth is this: I am loved, I am held, He will work everything for my good, I am not alone, this life is not without purpose, my pain is not outside of His vision, He sees my heart, He is my daddy and I am his daughter. That is my divine destiny.
So, back to this present moment. I stop. I let the kids eat pumpkin pie and watch Bert and Ernie so I can have a moment alone with my headphones and God. I feel pain. I feel love.
I worship my creator. He is magnificent. I rejoice in the beauty of his creation, which includes myself. He made me the way I am. I am a person who feels deeply. I carry burdens. I bond slowly, but profoundly. I cry easily. I am his creation. I have to be who I am. Right now, that is a mom who couldn't quite keep it together at Fred Meyer when she passed the red heart-shaped bib that said, "Baby's First Valentines Day."
I have some experience with the strange manifestations of grief from when my grandmother died. Several months after she died I didn't feel consciously sad. If you would have asked me I would have told you I was fine. In fact, I did tell my mother that repeatedly. Finally she said, "You have been so quiet and don't want to be around people as much, you just seem different from your normal self. Do you think you might still be struggling with grandma's death?" Yes. I realized I was. I really missed my grandma. She lived next door. We would go out to dinner every Friday with her. Even if she did prefer to go to grandma-ie places (places with daily specials, buffets, or crackling vinyl covering the booths) we were delighted to go out as a newly married couple with no money to eat out. She played scrabble with me, did puzzles, gave such wonderful hugs. She trusted God. She brought over baked goods to share on a regular basis. She taught me how to make Aunt Esther's Swedish rye bread. The loss of her was deeply felt. Yet, I didn't realize how much or how long I would take to go through the process of mourning such loss.
I draw on that past experience now. I haven't felt what I would call, "sad" on a regular basis. In fact, before today it has been months since Ive cried about my baby girl. I just feel misplaced, like something inside me is a bit lost, maybe hidden on a back shelf somewhere. Perhaps this hidden part is my innocence, blind trust that everything will be okay. Maybe it is gone forever.
Maybe something that is being forged in the midst of difficulty and pain is a trust that is stronger. My Father, he has not let me down. I feel like He has at times. I wonder. But in my heart I carry the substance of Christ. The spirit within me that raised Christ from the dead bears witness with this truth of God. The truth is this: I am loved, I am held, He will work everything for my good, I am not alone, this life is not without purpose, my pain is not outside of His vision, He sees my heart, He is my daddy and I am his daughter. That is my divine destiny.
So, back to this present moment. I stop. I let the kids eat pumpkin pie and watch Bert and Ernie so I can have a moment alone with my headphones and God. I feel pain. I feel love.
I worship my creator. He is magnificent. I rejoice in the beauty of his creation, which includes myself. He made me the way I am. I am a person who feels deeply. I carry burdens. I bond slowly, but profoundly. I cry easily. I am his creation. I have to be who I am. Right now, that is a mom who couldn't quite keep it together at Fred Meyer when she passed the red heart-shaped bib that said, "Baby's First Valentines Day."
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