372 Days

My sister died one year and one week ago.  I haven't written about it because I haven't known what to say.  Words have failed me again.

I also haven't wanted to dwell on it (it's easier to just pretend it's not there--I wanted to ignore the day and go on as usual, whatever that is)--I know the floodgates need to open, but I keep them bay, allowing only a few tears to escape here and there.  The more I think on it, the more likely I am to reach that brink, the more likely I am to go over it--and can I come back from that?  I don't know the answer, and I don't like unknowns.  I don't like feeling not in control.  I just have so much which needs doing, and I really don't have time for Mommy-Needs-A-Few-Days (years)-In-A-Cave-To-Cope.  There's only one of me, and just so much of everything else that needs to be done.  I feel as though my kids don't need to see all of this either--yes, they need to see me crying, yes they need to know it's okay to feel, and deal with emotions in a healthy manner, and yes, it's up to me to teach them the 'proper' way of grieving--but this mess, this is not what they need, and this mess, this is not the example they need.  I am simply not there at this time.  I've put off therapy (I need therapy), asking for prayer (I need prayer--but when everyone else is asking for prayer, who do I go to?), attending prayer services (I need prayer services)--and even attending church (I need church).  It's all just too much, still.

That said, I haven't gotten through just about a single moment without either tears threatening, or full on tears for just a few seconds before I pull myself together and announce, "Enough of that," to the universe, God, my husband, to whoever is listening.  But still not the completely full-on, let-go, body-wracking sobs my body, mind and soul so desperately need.  

I know most people have forgotten about my sister and my friend anyway, so what's the good in reminding them?

So I push it away.  Everything's fine.  Everything's okay.  Everything's great.

At times, I feel as though I'm hanging on by a mere strand.  Not even a full string. Certainly, not the full hem of His garment.

There is still so much damn pain.

Yesterday, after a bushel full of crap, I talked with one of my sweet friends about it all, baring my soul to to her, knowing I wouldn't be judged; a friend who would listen and would only offer love and sincerity.  She wouldn't try to fix me, or offer unwanted help--she would quietly sit beside me (even though we are states apart), perhaps hold my hand in the quiet, not trying to fill in the silence and emptiness with her own words, and most importantly, she would LISTEN.  She did not judge, she did not offer empty sympathy--she would be exactly what--more properly, who--I needed in that moment: A sounding board full of love.

To be fair to her, it's not been the most pleasant month for her, either.  Knowing it won't solve either of our problems, we both still wish February would just be long gone.

After I poured out my heart, she replied; she knows the saying is "'God doesn't give us more than we can handle,' but He does.  Yes, yes He does at times."

Chuckling to myself (that on the verge of completely losing the rest of one's sanity kind of chuckle) because of having that same thought over the past several weeks. He absolutely does--and my training has the answer to that, but so does my inner four year old.

She urged me to continue.

Well--as a mature Christian, and with my training, I know while yes, God absolutely does give us more than we can handle as humans--or, perhaps more appropriately allow it --it is not God's works which we can humanely handle.  Those are best left to Him.  However, in those same moments, God ALSO provides us with the tools, the people, the wisdom, the guidance--and every other single thing we need to handle them.  We need only need to follow Him.  Could--will--it take time?  Oh, you can bet your pants on it.  But this a part of the entire process of growing and stretching as a Christian.  God plants the seeds, helps us water them--and in turn, we must endure the oftentimes painful pruning process as those seeds grow.  And we are merely humans.  We cannot accomplish God's works without Him.  This is the process in which we learn our reliance upon Him.  Does this process suck at times?  You already know the answer, so I won't use my colorful language to describe how much it sucks.

Then there's my inner 4 year old.  SHE is sticking her tongue out at God, "PBBBBLLLLTTT!" and kicking Him directly in the shins.  I. DO. NOT. LIKE. THIS. MAKE. IT. STOP.

I then gave my friend a caveat of sorts, bringing my thoughts back full circle:  God is okay with both.  He can handle it.  Much like when our children save their worst behavior for us because they know we're a safe haven for them--God can handle our reactions, our anger, our tears, our frustrating, and when we stick out tongues out at Him, kicking Him in the shins, because He is our safe haven.  Our hiding place.  He loves us SO. MUCH.  He's willing to withstand the shin kicking until we're spent, falling at His feet in absolute sobs, ready for Him to pick us up and ready to turn it all over to Him, ready to stand us up somewhat straight, ready for us to lay it all at His feet--no reprimand, no finger shaking, no judgment, just LOVE--and turn us toward HIS path, holding our hands, sometimes carrying us, ALWAYS holding us upright.

My friend and I agreed we're both 4 year olds right now, while also agreeing tomorrow is a new day.

She signed off telling me how much she loves me, as I signed off telling her the same, and promising to pay her bail.

And for the record, we both had a good laugh when we realized our conversation would most definitely turn into a blog.

Y'all, we ALL have moments we stray--or want to stray.  The important thing is when we come directly back to Him, knowing, faithfully, BELIEVING, standing in that chasm for others and even ourselves, knowing there are others doing the same for us.