Wearing the Other Shoes

I have the privilege of volunteering for a local Christian non-profit that is "devoted to providing support, education, training and a Biblical perspective for adults, teens, and children who are dying, dealing with illness, pain, bereavement and other difficult issues, and for those who journey with them." 
*taken directly from our mission statement


I first joined this group over six years ago when I was at my worst physically, emotionally and spiritually.  I've been raised up, and now gratefully, I am able to give back.  I go every week and give back the best way I can.  Coffee and Conversation (formerly the Care Cafe), has been my small ministry within this larger ministry for close to three years.  It's one I take great pride in.  I love feeding people and helping out.   Best of all, I love taking care of my visitors and introducing newcomers to our ministry.  Noah has begun helping me (he calls himself my apprentice, I love it!) now that we are homeschooling.  He has also been staying for Prayer Hour on his own while I pick Avery up from daycare. What my co-workers are able tell me about his prayers is just amazing, God-given!  For everything that has been given to my family, I'm happy to be giving back.  Being a part of this center is as natural to me as air, water and yes, God!


Over the years, thanks to this center and a Christian disaster response group, I've had some classes and training in grief and disaster response (that probably surprises you because I'm usually the first one to scream, "RUN FOR YOUR LIVES," but if you bring me in after the fact and give me as many facts as possible, I'm actually kind of good!  I really can keep my head on pretty straight if the crisis isn't mine!).  I'm used to wearing these shoes. They were inexpensive and I've had them for years.  They are comfortable, they are broken in, they fit well and I know what to expect (as much as one can know what to expect in crisis/disaster response).   I'm also REALLY experienced in dealing with chronic illness, so I have my PhD in that counseling as well (oddly enough, no one will give me the piece of paper to go with it, though.  Hmmm).  I've been able to share my experiences concerning chronic illness and help our fearless leader teach a few classes about helping those who suffer from chronic illness, as well.  It's all part of the privilege of working for this center.  It's all part of something I take very seriously and personally.  It's all part of something bigger.


So, to be on the other side this past week, wearing the other shoes, has been a twist for me.  As you know from my previous posts, my beloved grandfather died last Wednesday.  Even though I know all the steps to grieving (and therefore "should" know what to expect), each day has brought new surprises for me.  These new shoes aren't comfortable, they don't fit properly, they have left blisters, and are awkward.  They were expensive, too: the cost of my grandfather's life and my health.  I'm used to taking care of everyone else, not the one being taken care of.  One day I'm fine, the next day I can't get off the couch.  While I know this is normal, it doesn't feel normal.  It's not my normal.  It's not me.  These aren't my shoes.  With the grief has come an explosion of pain inside my body, a reaction to the stress.  You know it's bad when I bother my specialists for prednisone on a weekend (especially for prednisone, especially on a weekend).  Between the grief and the pain, not only can I not function, I don't want to function.  I know this is normal.  It's my new normal.  But I don't like wearing these shoes.  They belong to someone else. . .   Don't they?


Denny died on a Wednesday, I go into 'work' on Thursdays.  There was no question that I was going to go into work.  Where else was I going to go?  What else was I supposed to do?  I kept myself baking and cooking everything I could get my hands on in the kitchen all day Wednesday (I wanted to make sure I had plenty of food to serve on Thursday, but considering I had enough food for three armies and several small, third world countries, plus my own family, I don't think that was going to be a problem).  At midnight, completely baked-out, I looked around thinking, "What now?  Oh, I should go to bed now so I can be fresh in the morning for work, right?  Right."  Of course I didn't sleep.  And of course I ran late that morning.  I like to be at work by 9:15 to be ready when my little cafe opens at 10, but it was almost 10 before I even pulled out of my own driveway for the 25 minute drive.  I found out along the way that Avery's daycare was closed due to the public schools having only a half day.  Great, so now I was going to have both kids with me.  This would be interesting!  While setting up my food, the rest of the staff came down for our morning hugs (if you don't start your work day like this, you're missing out) and to express their condolences.  Several of them said they were surprised to see me.  Where else was I going to go?  What else was I supposed to do?  This is where I belonged, this is where I needed to be.  This is where MY healing has always begun and where I knew it would again this time.


Wearing the other shoe isn't so bad.   My toes are a bit pinched.  I have slipped and fallen a few times.  I know I will again before all is said and done.  But, now that I've read the shoebox and had the training, I know a little bit about what to expect.   I'm also in the care of great, loving people who know what to expect and how to guide me while I wear these shoes.  Denny will always be dear to us, so I don't think I will ever be fully finished with these shoes.  I just hope to have a few good days in between where I can wear my old ones.


The best part?  I survived having both kids with me at work.  :)


*Please note that for the privacy of my family I did not include the name of the non-profit I work for. If you think you could be helped by this group or would just like more information about this group or the disaster response group, please feel free to contact me.  Thanks!*