I’m better this morning.
Last night I hid in the bathroom for a few moments where I flushed the toilet (so the husband and the grandgirl wouldn’t ask what was going on with me.) I blew my nose, popped my contacts, rubbed my eyes hard, and ran cold water over my face.
I didn’t want to explain why I was overwhelmed over something on my computer other than this video.
Maybe it’s because I’ll leave for Haiti in less than four weeks. (I might even get to meet Samedy. I hope not. I hope he’s in Nashville by then. Please pray.)
Maybe it’s because I’m watching a fund fueled in record time–a fund that will build a school for hope–by Christmas.
Or that I’m wearing a necklace purchased because of a 10-year-old’s dream to build a playground–and seeing others wearing them, too.
Or maybe it’s just because my emotions are riding the rim since we’re only two weeks away from the first anniversary of my mom’s death. As I remember those hospice house days (and nights) and how my wardrobe these days is pretty much the same. As I remember early-morning rummaging in the back of my car or in my suitcase or in the room’s wardrobe for the clothes I wear right now–to carry down the hall to the family shower.
When I went to bed Saturday night, I felt so unsettled.
So. Unstilled.
I didn’t know why, but it was after I read this and then this (and the comments.)
And when I woke up, I realized I’d settled into fear.
Proud of friends brave enough to make some changes, to step back or step away or step into.
But afraid. Of loss. Of perceived loss.
Of change. And changes I may need to make, too.
I was grieving.
Because the relationships here in this space, they’re so real. And so deep. There’s something about these heart-to-heart and spirit-to-spirit connections.
They’re God ties for such a time as this, and as Lyla reminded me when we messaged last night, they’re not bound to a comment box.
And really, as we follow deeper into Him and His individual call on each of us, aren’t we ultimately bound closer in Him?
Don’t we gain more than we lose?
And these connections, if He made them, since He made them, doesn’t He alone have the power to break them or make them stronger?
I know God’s up to something big.
And sometimes He needs to break things to build them better.
So I’m better this morning.
Thanks, Lyla.
Beautiful. This and YOU. Know that I’m praying for you as you continue to prepare your heart for this life-changing trip. Sending love.
Receiving your love and double back atcha.
I know that He knows what He’s doing…
that doesn’t mean my heart doesn’t stop beating every now and then
🙂 I get that, Karin. I echo that.
Love you, Sandy. Much to gain in these friendships. Much already gained.
🙂
I still can’t quite get a handle on how that happens. It’s all God, of course. And I thank Him on every remembrance of you. And after a month of writing about aging, I shouldn’t rush time–but I can’t wait now until April! 🙂
Aw. 🙂
Grief is good. It tells us to pay attention. We might not know to what. And the good news is we can take our time.
Love journeying with you, Sandy. Still here. The ties run deeper than a single cyberaddress. Of that I’m pretty sure.
To pay attention. That’s something I’m learning. I think it’ll take the rest of my life.
So grateful for you, Laura. I may have to have some culture in a spoon today in your honor.
xoxo
I love this…so true…sometimes it takes a bit of shaking up…so we can shake off those things that keep us from fully embracing HIm…and that story…my daughter was a cardiac nurse at vanderbilt children’s for years…such a sweet …sweet story …blessings as you prepare for Haiti …and I look forward to getting to know you better through the book club.
Sometimes that shaking up can leave us a bit nauseous. 😉
How cool is that–that your daughter worked at Vanderbilt. I love the twists and turns and all the little connections we discover. Looking forward to getting to know you better, too. 🙂
I, too, have an undercurrent of sadness about these losses and changes. But growing stronger is a sense of excitement about discovering what’s around the next corner for these friends, for you, for me. This is a tough time for you, Sandy – just own that part and own it big. It just is. Feel what there is to be felt. Live into it and then walk right through it to what comes next. Lots of love to you.
So now I have a vision of a river flowing in one direction, but these little side streams that bend around and travel on their own a bit on their own adventure only to come back around and join back up with the main river. Maybe that’s how it is with us on this journey.
If I lived near you, I think I’d be in your office every day. 😉
Sending a hug to warm your heart and so very thankful we have all met… how many cyber friends can even say that? But for the support and safe haven of THC… I doubt I would have ever travelled there. God prepared the way for all of us to meet and he will remain the faithful center of all these friendships even through change. Can’t wait to hear of your journey in Haiti and of how our great God walks with you every step of the way. Be still… you are so loved, Sandy. = ) Hugs.
I know! And if it weren’t for THC and Texas, you and I might not have ever discovered how close we really are. He is the faithful Center. Yes.
p.s. even if we were never to see each other again, we could all agree to meet up by the pencil sharpener in heaven. 😉
LOL. The pencil sharpener, the coffee pot, the water cooler. And, oh yes, the river!
Sandy, I jumped into your life as your wore those tumbled clothes from the suitcase in your car. And though your mother stepped over into eternity, you brought her and your love for her to life. You were real and raw. So I kept praying for you, for her, and came back here again and again.
Then I put your feed on my iGoogle homepage and I have continue to peak in on your life. You have inspired me and challenged me.
I don’t know if we will meet on this side of heaven but I am thankful to have been able to read the “letter” of your life here. Haiti will change you. There.is.no.doubt.about.it.
God has had me shut down my blog and if I were brave enough to say I am a “writer,” I would tell you that I have writer’s block. These sentences in this comment box are about the best I can do in the writing department though I try everyday to put something on paper.
Change is in the wind for me…I cried yesterday as my back bowed down over a exercise ball. Though I have no answers, I know God is getting me to the place where he can use me. Writing or not, I can accept that, or at least I am trying to.
Extra prayers today. I am glad you have a Lyla in your life. I need one of “those.”
Oh, Dea. This just made me all emotional again. And your words here, you’ve strung them together beautifully. This writing journey, it does seem to be one of two steps forward and one back–and sometimes three back.
I’m praying for you as you let go and fall into Him. We all have seasons when we need to do that. If we don’t, He’ll drag us out. He had to do that to me several years ago because I wasn’t brave enough to do it on my own. Sometimes it’s hard to accept those changes.
I’m so glad you found your way to this space, Dea. Grateful for you and your encouragement. Keep writing, friend.. Maybe spill those daily morning pages as Julia Cameron suggests. No thinking… just pour. xoxo
The shadows in our days emphasize the highlights. I think maybe your life is being enhanced in a God way.
I envy you the friend connections you’ve made as you’ve walked through life’s challenging places, Sandy. The support, the sustenance, that kind of friendship provides is precious.
Blessings to you.
“The shadows in our days emphasize the highlights.” Oh, Carol. I love that. You are always so good at seeing and drawing parallels. And you’re one of those connections, Carol. Always ready with words of encouragement and wisdom. I treasure your friendship. I don’t ever remember any more how we connected… I’m thinking that’s an okay thing.
Lyla’s good in time of need, isn’t she?
The thing no one tells you about grief is that it changes you. And then, your life changes. Everything gets unstilled, and it’s usually an un-stilling that’s needed to happen, but only death can bring that kind of life.
That’s what my church change was about. I suspect your Haiti trip may be involved in a similar upheaval of your life.
love you!
Only death can bring that kind of life…
Love you more!