I have a love for stories. I just love to know more about the people we share this earth with. I also have an insatiable appetite for inspiration. The more stories I hear the more I think of creative ways to tell those stories.
My heart is so heavy. The past few weeks have been full of moments that slam the breath right out of me and drop me to my knees with overwhelming grief. Two weeks ago, in the middle of an ordinary day, something as simple as a promotional mailer set my world in a bit of a tailspin that I haven't pulled out of yet. My conscience is waging a constant war against the angry woman inside of me screaming for people to be more appreciative, more considerate, less self-absorbed. While this righteous anger is swirling in my gut, I'm also admonishing myself for the same self-absorbed thinking that can't seem to forget that the rest of the world isn't living my experience.
This tug of war that goes on inside of me spills out in angry sobs and makes me want to hide under the covers and pretend the rest of the world hasn't continued to go on as though my son never existed.
I battle the depression and anxiety as I always have, essentially throwing myself into project after project to keep me busy. While this works to keep me active and in society rather than tucked into my bed for days on end, it doesn't really help. It only buys time between meltdowns.
I haven't been spending much time listening to God lately. I've been talking at Him a lot, but then I cut Him off and throw myself into the next project. I'm not sure why I've taken that distance. Maybe I want to hang on to my righteous anger. Maybe being angry is easier than being hurt and sad. Maybe I'm afraid that He will ask me to give up a project or two.
Back in January I went to a weekend conference where Angie Smith was the speaker. She was talking about grief and anger and pointed out that God is big. He doesn't have a problem with our anger. He only asks that we come to Him with it. That makes sense to me. I think back over the years and there have been plenty of relationships that had to be repaired with uncomfortable conversations that started with, "I love you, but you really hurt me." Or even, "I'm really mad at you right now and I need some time to calm down."
I think that is where I am with God. I'm hurt and angry because I know that He could have saved my son. He could have chosen to heal my James and I wouldn't be so bitter or heartbroken. The problem is I haven't really told Him yet. I talk to Him about other things, about other people's needs, then I cut Him off before we can go deeper.
God, I'm hurt. I've seen You work miracles for other people, but You didn't do it for me. I know that is petty, but I'm jealous of the other moms who bring home healthy children, some without even trying. I know people aren't having babies to make me jealous. I know people are complaining about parenting because it is legitimately hard work, not because they want to rub it in my face that they have children at home. Even though I'm angry, I do still love You. I know that You love me too, and that ultimately You do want good things for me. I think I just needed a little time. This conversation is really uncomfortable but I know we need to have it. Now that I've said all that, I think I'm ready to listen again.
Mothering isn't solely reserved for the women that gave birth to a child. Even those of us with wonderful mothers also have a village of women and men who impacted our lives and raised us up to be who we are.
I did not vote for him, but I will pray for him.
If you're focusing on the first part of that sentence and you are surprised or disappointed I would love to have a cup of coffee and a loving conversation about the life experiences and beliefs that lead me to that decision. However, that doesn't matter nearly as much as the second part.
My heart is simply bursting with gratitude today as I head out to mail these special necklaces to their new homes.