That was probably stupid.
I've plowed through an incredibly emotional weekend with my "face" intact...and I capped it off by rubbing salt in a festering wound.
Oops.
I've also added in a nasty flare up of my auto-immune disorder and sick kids.
Nod to the master of chaos for the crazy carnival music...
I finally had no choice but to listen to my body and my heart today-which were nearly impossible to ignore since I'm currently a crabby butthole, I'm so exhausted that breathing takes too much effort and my joints feel like they are on fire while being hammered with a thousand tiny, ultra sharp, tack nails. Thankfully, I've managed to keep the irritation at bay and NOT take it out on my kids.
Um...Sorry, Charles. You know I LOVE YOU.
I have plowed through this fall, with all of the chaos and destruction and uncertainty, with my "face," again, mostly intact. I've managed to perfect walking into "my" house in Swansboro without crying every time I step in the door. I only embarrassed myself with tears and oversharing to contractors a couple of times...(that I can remember.) We said "see you later," to the dearest friends who walked beside us in the burning flames of life after Sam & Mercy died. I compartmentalized paralyzing fear and worry for precious family walking through tremendous trials. And I survived the emotional minefield of -
The Nutcracker.
And today, I just needed a minute. So, I'm taking it. I'm going to cry, eat chocolate, watch crap tv to shut off my never resting mind and go to bed-VERY early. And pray that when I wake tomorrow, I can slap the "face" back on. And if I can't? I'll just pray that there will be some hands and hearts to catch me when I fall and help carry the load with my sweet kiddos for just a bit.
I used to think my life was so exhausting when the kids were all little-For REALS, they were all under 7 when Sam was born. And I thought cloth diapering was a GOOD idea. (It sure saved some moo-lah, but I'm not certain Charles will ever recover from the poop sprayer attached to the toilet.)
I had no idea.
No clue how much mental, physical and emotional energy it would take to keep going just a few years later-when the shrapnel of June 11, 2015 would shatter my world and forever alter-
every. single. minute.
So, I'm trying to learn. To take the time I need. Step away when it all rubs my heart too raw. Be honest and blunt about what I can and can't do. Speak truth when I'm hurting or need some extra love. And accept that how I deal with the death of my kids only truly matters to the people in these 4 walls and The God who brought all of us together.
This house and this heart?-got to be judgement free.
I DO NOT need to bring outside opinions into how I walk this rutted, pitted and treacherous path.
I DO NOT need to concern my heart with how my grief looks to anyone other than the husband I'm committed to and the children I am blessed/charged with guiding.
Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we're in. Study how he did it. Because He never lost sight of where He was headed-that exhilarating finish in and with God-He could put up with anything along the way: cross, shame, whatever. And now he's there in the place of honor, right alongside God.
Hebrews 12:2, The Message
To be truthful, I've never been a big fan of The Message translation-it's often seemed a little too "popmusic" for me.
But this one?
This said EXACTLY what I needed to hear today. The only "self-help" that I need in my life is to keep my heart pointed right where my children are rejoicing today.
WITH JESUS.
love,
clan mac mama
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