I’ve been quiet on here lately. I’m not sure exactly why, but a good guess would be a general avoidance of facing my emotions. Lately, this last month and a half especially, my head and heart seem to be in overdrive. Always full to the brim of so many seemingly conflicting emotions, never really fully capable of understanding or processing any, let alone all, of them. It kind of feels like its time for a brain dump. But at the same time, so much has rushed through my head and heart these last few weeks, that I’m not sure I could honestly and genuinely put words to paper.
Harry Beau is nearly 18 months old. He is walking like a mad man, still not talking, and always on the edge of what could be considered suicidal tendencies; the child has only, in the last two weeks, decided that stairs are scary and should be proceeded with caution. Praise the Lord for that! We have been doing speech therapy with him since May, and while I can see the subtle ways in which he has made progress, it still makes it very hard to get through each day. It’s a circle of frustration as we try desperately to understand each other. Toddlers already have enough emotions flooding their decisions, the fact that he wants so badly to tell me what’s up and can’t (or really more likely, won’t) just makes for lots of tantrums - and often laughter on my part. I can only hope that those moments of tension release that manifest as laughter, aren’t the reasons he’s in therapy one day. Pray for us?
Audrey Nole started first grade this year and she is IN LOVE with “big kid school” and all of the new ways that they are approaching learning. Kindergarten was wonderful, truly, but she is such a goal oriented person, that the structure and box checking of first grade is totally her jam. She got the honor of being named student of the month for September, and while her dad and I are incredibly proud, she doesn’t understand why she got a certificate just for “being herself” … y’all… I melted. She can be such a pistol at home, but to know that the joyous and life giving Audrey that God gifted us six years ago shows up for her friends and classmates, it makes all the hard days seem insignificant.
We just passed the 7th anniversary of moving to Utah. Those of you that know me well, know how hard that was for me to process. I find it completely unbelievable that after all this time, God STILL hasn’t provided the opportunity for us to leave. Part of the avoidance of emotional processing has definitely stemmed from my frustration with the God whom I know to be so sustaining and steadfast, seemingly not hearing my pleas for an exit strategy. Oh the hours I’ve spent wrestling with my heart and my head and my gracious Heavenly Father. Our life is here. He has made that abundantly clear. And yet, my heart so often isn’t. Talk about dilemma. Spiritual. Emotional. Mental. Physical.
In the last few weeks, as we have settled back into a routine and gotten ourselves into the rhythm of the school year, I have felt deeply the absence of my sweet mama and son. There are days that go by when I so desperately want to call and chat with my mama. Days when hearing her voice would probably make all the things better; at least in that moment I haven’t been able to call her in six and a half years, and yet the urge to pick up the phone and dial has become stronger than ever.
It also feels like grief begets grief in many ways. Those days where I want to chat with my mom, I almost always end up in tears over the missing little boy that should be sitting in the car seat next to his little brother. Why does grief always strike when you’re driving? That is literally the most inopportune time to be wiping tears out of your eyes… So it gets stuffed. Swallowed. Put away for some other time when tears would be safer; literally, not figuratively. So, if you ever find yourself in need of a good cry, just come on over to my house. I’ve got tissues and plenty of tears to share with you. And then, after we’ve gotten out the sobs of sorrow, I will hug you and remind you that even though we are living through the consequences of the fall, we WILL BE MADE NEW at the gates of heaven. The sorrow, the sadness, the disappointments, the frustrations, the sassy children, all of it, will be made whole and new and beautiful.
All of these words tonight feel like a jumbled up mess. Perhaps they are. But even so, I needed them. Each and every one of them.
“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes and death shall be no more, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” -Revelation 21:4-5
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal, for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” -Matthew 6:19-21
I’m going to mediate on these words. Lord, let my treasure be You. Not perfect patience with my kids. Not getting through this grief and moving on. Not leaving Utah. But YOU and you alone.
Photo by Daniel Apodaca on Unsplash