Strange Grief

Most of the time, I am okay. My thoughts are concentrated on the tasks at hand, I can keep my mind from wandering, and my emotions are under control. I talk, smile, and even laugh about whatever is happening. There isn't any worry, anxiety, or fear about my present life or the future. I regret nothing.

But sometimes I have a flash of memory, a thought, or a disturbing image. Then my breath catches in my chest, my eyes can barely focus, and my nose starts to burn as I hold back hot tears. I'm less aware of my surroundings, I'm inattentive to the people I'm with, and I struggle to regain my composure. I take a short walk to change location, I find an alternate view to replace the image in my mind, and I think about breathing.

Just in a vain attempt to be reasonable, I consider the fact that my sleep has been more disrupted than usual, I may have delayed eating too long, and I've been sitting in one spot for quite a while. It's all so practical and makes such perfect sense that I should be able to recover quickly and get on with things. But it's not that easy, moving forward feels impossible, and I honestly wish it was just that simple.

The real truth is that I am coping with a deeper grief than I ever expected to experience. A relationship that I carefully nurtured, invested my heart in, and cherished with my whole being has died. And the one who killed it is walking freely while I mourn in agony. Yet I must forgive this killer if I ever desire that the relationship might be revived, healed, and restored. Because I am her mother and there is nothing fair about love but love is faithful and true. Only true love can offer mercy and grace.

Until then, I must pray that love would triumph over fear, that truth would prevail over anxiety, that grace would defeat shame, and that mercy would conquer the grave of broken bonds.

~ Glory

Lovely Tangle?

This blog started out as an outlet for some of my more confused, anxious, and conflicted thoughts which, inevitably, turned into prayer-like discussions and rants with my Lord and best Friend. For the record, I'm certain that I have never audibly yelled at God. I won't say I haven't been tempted to. There is truly a fine faint line between contemplation and action when it comes to things we want to say to God and what we actually verbalize. The reason it's that, to His attentive ears and eyes, they are pretty much one and the same.

So this blog was born kind of flailing and screaming into this crazy world that is my life. My good husband and dear children have been both the inspiration and instigation of the open and honest words that I write here and, oftentimes, bravely share with you. Just think of it as me letting you eavesdrop on my conversations with Jesus. He doesn't mind and, most of the time, neither do I.

The thing one is likely to notice within a moment of reading is that I'm not a skilled devotional writer. I truly adore and admire anyone who can deftly apply scripture to their life experiences and make it relatable to the entire planetful of humans. My abilities lie elsewhere, and I would genuinely appreciate notification if anyone were to discover where that might be!

So, there you have it, not the best description of a blog you may have had the pleasure of reviewing, but it's what it is. A lovely tangle of partially woven strands of life, emotion, experiences, memories, understandings, and grapplings. And, most importantly, this is my earnest cry: Lord, help me!

Glory

Messy Loves

This sticky hot afternoon I came home from work, a little mental-battle-weary and pride-scuffed. When I opened the door I saw our youngest smiling at me through a thin sheen of evaporated sweat and pen-ink circles around his eyes, his cheeks, and lines over his mouth.

?

I was more than a little confused by this until I saw the perfectly detailed bone drawings on his arms and, as he would later reveal with wicked pleasure, his legs. His older brother was, apparently, equally decorated. Not really understanding what my response should be and, quite truthfully, wondering where my good husband was during this mash-up moment of art and iniquity, I simply continued my briefly interrupted sojourn into the kitchen where I assembled the kind of taco salad that bandages and covers hurt feelings so deliciously well. Later I would consume more stale kettle corn than anyone should ever ingest in one sitting.

(Speaking of sitting, our recent hike-in camping trip bestowed upon my fatigued form a sore souvenir when I slipped and landed squarely on my posterior. I miss sitting...)

Since more than four hours have passed from pulling into our driveway, I've had plenty of time to reflect on the goodness of God, His great love for me, and His purpose for my life. But, regrettably, I haven't allowed a single one of those truths enter into my thoughts. Instead, I know I have been dwelling on murkier musings, things that I lack enough information to draw a proper conclusion, and things that have cluttered my mind unchecked for too long. And yet, God's truths always prevail and, once again, His love for me looks past the mess and sees the one He adores, values, and treasures, much to my incomprehension.

I suppose this is why I simply asked my good husband if he had anything to say about the kids having their skeletons diagramed on their bodies. He just smiled a bit and said he didn't say anything about it. So neither will I.

Lord, I am so grateful for Your messy loves, not just these dear little ones who perplex me with their naughty curiosity, nor my good husband who confuses me with his contrasting personality, but all of Your preciously imperfect children. I need to be reminded that my disorderly life is no surprise to You but Your Spirit of Peace and Patience is the best guide with which to view my chaos. This proves to me, every moment of every day, how much I desperately need You. And I know I do. I really do!

Glory

Praying my Guts Out

I've got to be honest. I am not a big fan of advertising my flaws, wearing my humanity inside-out. Most of the time, I keep all of that prudishly hidden and, yes, I kind of do judge those who aren't as discreet as I am. But I also kind of judge those who never let any struggle be seen. Frankly, I try to be moderate so I can continue to put my best and prettiest face forward while giving the appearance of confiding and spilling my guts out. Nope, just kidding. I don't.

This is how I am with praying out loud. I can say some truthful and somewhat raw things when I pray in a group, with my kids, or alone with my husband. But it's not all of it. Maybe it's not supposed to be, although David was quite terribly shameless in his Psalms. Oh, if I could be as bravely humble as David. Perhaps it was easier because he threw it all into songs, like Taylor Swift. Every messy bit of his life was belted out in a little rant-like petition. Yeah, I should write more prayer songs. Or just sing them. To an audience of One.

Dear God,

"Where can I go from Your Spirit?..." Nowhere, really. And I'm actually thankful for that. It's pretty hard to find friends who are so unconditionally loving and faithful, and won't condemn me for my mistakes. And I am embarrassed to admit that I am not that kind of friend, much of the time. I try to be but trusting is hard, especially when I am just minutes away from my next failure. Life hasn't been easy, lately, and I've been asking a lot of scary questions about You. The answers should be as obvious as Your Word but I'm not the best at remembering what I already know to be true. "Help me overcome my unbelief." That sums it up, right now.

~ Glory

There I go again...

Today is my "day off." And in true careless and purposeless fashion I let myself wander and take a mental stroll through social media-ville. This wasn't exactly my first mistake and it certainly wasn't going to be my last. Not a sinful thing but likely a foolishness that leads to sin, thing.

I read some stuff. I saw some words. I got upset.

Yes, it happened again. Sometimes on this road to recovery from Approval Addiction aka People Pleasing I hit a bump. Hard. An ego-sized pothole that feels like I'm going to break something. Like pride? Personal value?

*sigh*

So, out of the blue it dawns on me. Like bright glaring sunlight through my gloomy woe-is-me party-of-one.

I read the wrong stuff. I saw the wrong words. I got off track.

Oh dear. This means I've got some damage-control duty, huh? Again...

"You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you!" Isaiah 26:3 (NLT)

Lord, I do trust in You and want to fix my thoughts on You. Give me Your perfect peace, now. Amen!