Have you ever been on one of those rides that just spin you around and around and upside down? At first it goes slowly enough that you can wave at your family & friends who are watching and waiting for you. Then it starts to go faster and faster until all of the people & objects that surround you eventually melt into one big blur. You are moving so fast and everything is out of your control. For some, you may feel your organs moving around and it may feel like your brain is going to pop out of your eyes. And all you can do is hold on and pray that the machine won't break and you'll get out in one piece.
Meanwhile, on the outside, everyone is carrying on with their lives, time is passing away no faster than when you first entered the park and all objects are still in their places doing what they do.
This past year has been so full of life-altering events compounding and making the air around me thicker and heavier that it is so hard for me to even just breathe. And like that ride goer, I feel as if my world is spinning and changing so fast that I'm being carried into another place outside of all that I know and all that is comfortable. And I just can't catch my breath.
In one year alone, along with having to deal with Mama's death, I've had to grow out of being a single-minded "selfish" adult and into a mother of two children, a "trying hard to be a Godly wife" to my husband and primary home-maker: cooking, cleaning, paying bills and all. I've also had to relearn how to balance a busy home life with a work life. And on top of it all, I've had to do it while coping with a deteriorating heart and often debilitating auto-immune disease.
I must acknowledge that the Lord has blessed me with so many people who love and care for my family & who help out in more ways than they know. Even people who have no reason to love me, people I don't even know, send prayers and love my way and that is more than I could ever ask for. My life is full with love thanks to the Lord.
But I also must admit that more than not, I'll retreat and hid away from the world wishing that my mom was here. After the kids have gone to bed and all is quiet, I'll lie in bed and cry until my heart hurts so bad that I fall asleep. I know that the reasons for me wishing she was here are selfish ones: I wish she was here to guide me in raising my children, to answer questions that I can't figure out, to tell me when I am doing something right or wrong or to comfort me when I feel lost or overwhelmed. To see my kids grow up with their grandma and know her as more than just the lady in the pictures. To lay beside me when I'm sick and hear her voice sing, talk or pray over me. To be there with me as I go through my heart surgery and to take care of me after.
I just wish to have my mom again, doing things that only moms can do.
But I know I can't and it hurts. It hurts every day because I can't.
It's been easy to sink into a pit of depression and self-pity, having to deal with the greatest loss I've ever experienced at such a pinnacle moment in my life. But even in her passing, Mama has continued to be my strength, guide and inspiration. Among the innumerable memories, she has left many books with her thoughts, favorite Bible verses & quotes. And I can always lean on these words and trust in them just as she did, even through her darkest days. As her disease ate away at her human body, God was changing her on the inside and through her illness, he made her perfect and free. And sometimes, when I am still and listening to His quiet voice, my world will stop spinning and I can feel that same peace. That peace that passes all understanding.
(then I read some excerpts from one of her diaries - reads from left to right)
