Amazing Grace

Today was one of those days.  Up late last night.  It’s difficult to feel rejected or even just not accepted by those closest to me.  It seems like those are the people whose empathy wears off the fastest.  Communication lacks and support dwindles.  Maybe their own grief is festering, maybe resentment begins to grow, and life goes on.  That’s the thing about grief or trials – they move you.  And, while we started at the same place, I’ve reflected on my own life and values and faith, and without trying, it seems as if we’ve all ended up in different places.  I’ve been not talking to my sister/best friend for the last month.  We’re both stubborn, we got in an argument, and I guess I expected more empathy than she showed.  And if I’m being honest, I just didn’t have the emotional tolerance at the time to patch things up.  Now after a month, I’ve let that resentment grow and life go on.  I know that’s not right, but I emotionally can’t defend myself right now.  For the same reason, more or less, I’ve been distant from other people in my life, too.  Yesterday, all it took was a few neglected texts from friends, a day of incessant fighting amongst the kids, the pressure and stress of trying to plan two parties – friend and family - for Corbin’s birthday, and an overcritical conversation with my husband to send me over the proverbial edge.  Yes, as much as I fight it, I am a woman.  I am dramatic and sensitive.  I am overbearing and controlling.  I over-commit in all aspects of my life, but it would require me to compromise who I am to not do it.  I like the feeling of accomplishing something that takes a lot of effort.  It’s so gratifying in a life of raising children that usually offers so little, if any, gratification.  Maybe it’s a symptom of being a stay-at-home mom in recent years now.  Then, after the commitment has been made, it’s likely a symptom of a total lack of organization on my part.  It’s been acknowledged; I’m working on it.  The parties, I know, “aren’t necessary”.  Except they kind of are.  We all need this.  We need an opportunity to celebrate something for a change.  The last time we saw most of our family members was Luke’s funeral.  We need to make more memories.  Plus, Corbin really deserves it.  He’s had a tough year (obviously); he does well in school, and bears the weight of being the oldest child.  I don’t personally know what that’s like, but I can imagine it isn’t easy.  

So this morning, it took everything I had to get everyone going and out the door to church.  It’s always a bit of a production, but the kids were begging for pancakes and the shower was calling my name.  I knew I needed to go, though.  I sat there yearning to hear something reverent, something to make me feel better about my day.  I never feel that way, but today I wanted it!  Our pastor’s sermon was great, but it just wasn’t what I needed to hear today.  I selfishly prayed for myself.  I prayed for patience, for understanding, for help applying what I was hearing to my moment.  Nothing struck me.  At one point it turned into just getting through without having a public display of emotion.

I’m not a “cryer”, not in public anyway.  I don’t like the reaction it solicits from other people.  I don’t dare to even cry in private anymore.  Living with four other people, three being little ones has scared it out of me, even before losing Luke.  And after, every time Marty has caught me tearing up, he would exclaim with the bluntness only a four year old possesses, “Oh, not again with the cryin’!”  No, not again.  It’s not that I’m setting a precedent that it isn’t okay; it’s that I don’t want them to worry.  There will be a time and place in their lives where I’ll be able to return to the womanly drama that is crying whenever I please.  But that time is not now.  I don’t want to cast doubt in their little minds and that I’m crying and sad because I don’t fully trust God.  I know maybe a therapist somewhere would beg to differ, but I personally feel like they’re too little to understand the difference.  There are times it happens, but I’m not proud of it.  Oh, but the tears were flowing today.  I kept my sunglasses on when we stopped after church to visit Luke.  The sun was shining, so I felt bad for crying.  But in that moment, it just felt like if I wasn’t there and he was here, things would be different.  Life wouldn’t be so hard if we’d never had to endure all of this.  He’d be almost 8 months old – eating lots of baby food, possibly crawling and sitting, definitely smiling and squealing.  God give me strength today, I prayed.  I stood there and let myself feel bad for myself.  How pitiful. 

I continued the pity party when I got home and crawled back into bed for a quick nap.  This was my solution to my own problem.  The saying should go, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, take a nap.”  I woke up when Jeremy was leaving for work as he kissed me on the head.  Immediately I felt and knew, I’m a horrible person.  I had spent the last twelve hours fully feeling bad for myself, and feeling lost, and probably all the while taking it out on him, and he still wants to gently kiss me on the head before heading off to what is sure to be a stressful day at work.  Would I have even said goodbye to myself?  I think I would’ve snuck out the back an hour earlier.  After he left, I realized he had picked up, emptied the dishwasher, reloaded the dishwasher (correctly!), folded some clothes, and fed the kids lunch.  I felt so humbled and low, awful and grateful, sorry and thankful.  I am certain that in this life, God will personally teach me more about His grace through this man than I ever deserve.  That is what I needed today.  He is what I needed today and everyday.  This day wasn’t going to get better until I quit refusing to accept grace.  I found the reverence I was looking for was, has been and is right next to me.  I love you, Jeremy, and will remember to thank God for you everyday.  Thank you God for giving me such a patient husband and continue to open my heart to receive, and his heart to give, grace freely.  We have been moved in the last two months - together, not apart.  Grace does that.  My sister text me as I was writing this.  I hope I can shake off the resentment and differences and just be graceful. 

Scripture that came to mind is 2 Corinthians 4, about jars of clay. 

"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed."