My life is blessed. It’s not perfect, but there isn’t a person whose life is. Trust me, I’m not bragging here, there are things that are tough in my life, seriously tough things with my children, my Dad has Parkinson’s, the feeling of insecurity with Mike’s job and my personal health challenges and limitations. But I know with 100% certainty that I am loved by God, I am where He has planned, I can take all of my worries to Him to manage, I can surrender my fear at His feet, and He holds me right where I am.
This life is not my own and it is not the whole story.
When I am quiet before God, in the silence I have a visual picture in my mind with me down on my knees, head bowed with arms stretched out holding what I’m bringing before God’s mighty Throne. As a mom, much of the time my arms are outstretched with my boys. When I have much to pray for, I lay it all down at my sides and with both arms push it all forward as if they are gifts to put at His feet. Praying like this lightens my worries and reminds me God knows. He knows before I even speak a word.
Why is it that I know and feel blessed, can take everything to God in prayer, but sadness pierces my heart and fear grips my mind so often?
It’s raining outside and like so many other days my eyes are too. I’m stuck inside the house just like I feel trapped inside my body. It’s a scary place to be because I know I can stay there for long periods of time. It’s a constant battle and I’m fighting right now. I want to scream, “Someone please tell me, how you can be thankful and cry tears of loss; filled with joy and sad; be blessed and mourn?”
How do these contradictory emotions coexist?
It’s like I’m on a teeter-totter, but I’m alone and running from one side to the other to keep tottering. It’s too difficult of a ride to expect anyone else to teeter with me and that’s not for lack of being loved by an amazing family and friends. The only One that can totter with me is God, but I need to invite Him.
HE is HUGE, so in the air I sit.
God sits and waits for me to allow my pain to slide down to Him. He’s not going anywhere and won’t allow me to slam into the ground by getting up without warning. As I let my sadness and pain go, I tumble down and He scoops me up. I am safe in His arms.
Why can I visualize God holding me and feel it with my heart, but still feel sad?
Gender, ethnicity, age, position, religion, location, gifts, talents or skills don’t matter to circumstances that cause mourning. Sometimes I try to make it a head game and think I shouldn’t feel this way or others have it much worse. Those two statements may be true, but mourning is a heart process and can’t be taken care of by my mind alone, wished away or pushed into a tiny brain compartment.
I mourn for the loss of my health, my career, my colleagues, dreams I can’t bring into fruition like running a marathon, time with friends, freedom to do simple tasks easily and for missing out. I want to mourn, be done and move on. I believe in being ‘in what you’re in’ and the mourning process is different for every single person and situation.
My problem is that every day I have reminders of my loss and my response to some catch me off guard. The tears come when I don’t want them, which is all the time, as they swell and sting in my eyes, then stream down my face, hot and wet, ruining my makeup, if I even put it on.
Today was a big one, it surprised me and I’m having a hard time with it. To be fair in their replacement process for me, I promised to let my employer know if I would be able to return to work in April for next school year. Last Wednesday, I asked my doctor to send the medical notification to work that I wouldn’t be able to return. That way I’d get an email from my employer acknowledging they received the doctor’s letter without feeling pressured to make a decision. My body made the decision, I was in control of letting them know, and I mourned, processed and cried a good cry. Done.
Yesterday I received a call and today an email from my employer, clearly indicating that they never received the fax. The tears ran as I called my doctor who hadn’t faxed the letter yet. They ran as I sent a text message to a dear colleague letting her know. At every turn today, I’ve been crying and I’m drained. Even though I’ve not been able to physically work for a year, 3 months and 2 days, it’s still raw. I just want to be done with feeling the loss of my career.
I don’t want to, but I have no other choice, so in it I sit.
I do not sit alone.
God invites me, so I sit with Him on His Throne.
Still, there is no deliverance from pain or a fixed body. But in it I sit and stay and reflect back, what He says to me as best I humanly can, the only response God deserves:
“I love you always, no matter what”.
Beauty & Blessing!