My heart & my child’s heart…they ache

So it’s been a tough couple of days. There has been a lot going on in my life, in my family, and in my friends’ lives. In the midst of it all, I clearly hear God asking me to “Be Still” and I am totally struggling with it. I’m not struggling with the whole being still part, it’s that there are no specific directions that went with it. Can someone sat “Type A” and I need a to do list!

Am I supposed to re-prioritize? Am I supposed to do less at church or the kids’ schools? Am I supposed to just be still physically? When I am still, can I still reach out and serve others? What if a need arises, do I get to meet it? OK, just to be clear, God’s answer to all those questions and more was “Be still and know I am God (and you are not!)” Believe me; I could not be making up the message. Everywhere I turned this past week, it was on my mind, in the words of others, audible spoken in my ear, oh and even written on a pen my husband handed me! REALLY, I did get the message the first time God.

So where did it take me this week? It honestly took me to some really dark places, followed by great joy, again into darkness, followed by peace and finally into a peaceful darkness that still has not brought the specifics of “Be still.”

As I sat in my stillness that was also joined by a period of quietness, I found myself grieving. The last time God asked me to be still, my first husband was sick and passed away. As I sit in my stillness this time, I do not believe He will bring the same things to my life as last time, but I am still fearful. I have to wonder if I am being prepared for a “rough” patch and need to be focused for the events to come and that’s when the fear enters.

As I wrestle with God this past week, I talked with my husband, I wrote in my journal, I talked with some friends, I prayed and I did my best to “Be still.” I asked Him a lot of questions and He answered the same every time, all the while I relived the grief of my life.

I sat and remembered loosing my first husband followed soon after by loosing my mom. Being remarried and my dad remarried as well, has brought a different layer to my grief. I miss my mom, but I love that my dad is happy and I love his wife. I miss my first husband but I love my life now with my current husband. Then my kids…

I sat in my eldest daughter’s room last night. She has been “messy” this week. Knowing she is a pre-teen, I figured it could be anything from hormones to a lost book or something very real. I asked her what was going on and she burst into and tears and said, “I don’t know.” I told her by her response it was obvious there was something bothering her (obvious to me it was the something very real option).

We dug in and I discovered my little girl is trying to dig her way through the same emotions I am. She misses her Nana, but loves that Papa is happy and remarried and also loves her new Oma. She loves her life and her family to include my husband, but misses daddy. She even thinks daddy would be happy that another man is there taking care of her and loving her. How can she miss them so much and love the “new” people?

The worst part of the conversation was telling my little girl that I didn’t have the answer. I was also struggling to live today happy and still miss yesterday. I don’t have it all figured out, but I know it’s OK to feel all of these things. Relating to her was helpful, but as her mommy I just want to fix it. Telling her I couldn’t and even if I could I wouldn’t really sucked!

The truth is the more I think I “get through it” the more I realize it’s just with me. I can’t get to the other side of grief. I will carry these people, the memories and the grief forever. I deal with it differently through time, but I still carry it. The load may seem lighter now, but it’s really that I am stronger because of the love that I have in my life.

When my daughter said she’s beginning to “forget them,” I knew what she meant. It’s not them we are forgetting but their voice, their smell and their body. We have them in our memories, but their voice is now ours. We have special items of theirs, but now they smell like us. We see their pictures in our home, but we do not think we see them in the distance any more.

In the end, I felt just as “messy” as she. We talked and the tears stopped. I don’t think either of us feel any better, just not alone. I realize more now that it is my children who are with me in this journey. As their mom, I would like to have it all figured out for them and guide them. The reality is that we are both on the journey. I am not leading them nor them leading me. We are walking side by side “messy” but not alone. And between us is the ultimate comforter, Jesus. He knows our grief and does not take it from us but teaches us through it that we may be more like Him because of it.

I still do not feel released from being still, but I can at least say I’m not fighting it quite as much. If this moment with my daughter is the only thing I get out of it, then that’s good enough for me. If He’s preparing me for much more, that’s OK too. I’m not alone. I am being still, but I’m not alone.