I wasn’t planning to write anything today – it’s not on the schedule. In fact, we’re intentionally trying not to overload you with posts that make you say, “Enough already – I don’t have time to read twenty posts a week!”
But this morning Annarose got in a car with two other college students and began the long drive to San Diego where she’ll spend the next ten weeks.
Fear grips my heart as I think of them careening down interstates, blithely thinking they are safe from all harm – fearless.
Last fall, grief grabbed hold of me and hasn’t let go. My days have been gray and slow and heavy.
I know, it sounds like depression, and I’m not saying there isn’t a bit of that going on, but while grief and depression look like identical twins, they aren’t necessarily related.
In the days following our accident, I was stunned by the realization that we are not safe in this world. It’s not that I thought we were safe all the time, but I had a general sense of safety.
Accidents happen – to other people. Children get cancer – in other families. Marriages crumble – but not too closely to ours.
I was living in a sweet spot of safety I no longer have, and yet, I also know that God has complete control over my life. I don’t know what to make of that.
That brings me to this morning. I don’t want to be a mother paralyzed by fear – the one who hinders her children from seeking adventure. How do I let them live fully while not lying awake at night, my heart pounding and tears streaming down my face?
I don’t know yet – I haven’t figured it out. I only know that I love Russ and my kids so crazy much, and the thought of losing another one of them shreds my heart. I don’t think I could live through another loss like that.
And as I type those words I feel the need to say, “Jesus – I’ll do whatever you ask me to do, I’ll accept whatever you bring to my life – I’m not shaking my fist at you. You are God. I am not. But please have mercy on me. Please.”
So here I am, pouring out my heart here, the best (and cheapest) form of therapy I know (and yes, I know I need some real trauma/grief therapy too).
Thank you for reading, friends, and for praying for our family all of these years. You are a gift to me.
with hope and gratitude,
Lisa
I live in this place. Praying with and for you.
You too, Beth? It’s a hard place to be…
I too live in this place, praying for you daily.
Thank you, Tamara, and thank you for saying, “me too.”
Praying for your family. Praying for safety and joy in Annaroses’s adventure. praying for peace in your heart so you can experience her joy and it will bound over your grief and fear with overflowing abundance!!!
Thank you for your prayers, Kris.
There are so many places where our faith meets the world and shakes us. I remember your post about how you used to feel like a good mom…you wrote that so long ago. You allow your faith to be your core and you aren’t afraid to be honest and real with it. This is another real place. Earlier you came to the real place that the healing of your children requires more than you dreamed. Last year you met the devastatingl place of grappling with loss of safety. Thank you for being real with the struggle. I, too, have wanted God to keep my and mine safe in ways that did not happen. Now I forge a new relationship with God…who did not keep his own Son safe. I’m not sure what it all means yet, but I, like you, am committed to the journey of finding out.
Beverly – “… Now I forge a new relationship with God…who did not keep his own Son safe. I’m not sure what it all means yet, but I, like you, am committed to the journey of finding out.” Powerful words. I’m going to be rolling them over in my mind.
Wow. This is so hard. Love it and fear it at the same time. Thank you. ❤️
Your last two sentences are so powerful. I think that will take me some time to digest to take it from my brain to my soul. Thank you for writing those words.
Praying for you, dear friend.
Ann, thank you.
❤️
Lisa- our family has been walking through two years of one “hit”, not catching our breath till the next “hit” arrives- we have been attacked at every level & when I thought there was no where else to be hit, two more areas were attacked- I understand the not shaking our fists at God,because you are right, He is God & to Him we cling- I am praying for you to experience peace this weekend.
Renee, I’m sorry for your suffering. It is a hard road, and one we wouldn’t choose, to be sure, but we do cling to Jesus. I am praying for you right in this moment.
I live in this place, too. We haven’t lost a child, but we’ve been hit and totaled twice in less than two years, and we have a child with a potentially degenerative condition. We were supposed to be called and given results of the most recent test soon. Instead I got a call yesterday saying they want us to make the 8+ hour drive to come and talk to the doctor about the results in person. My heart is pounding, I’m teary, and I’m not being patient or kind with my children. This isn’t the mother I want to be to them–particularly if we’re potentially losing one of them. Lord, have mercy. Because I need it.
I’m so sorry – that is so much to bear.
By nature, I’m a worrier and a fearful person. I struggle constantly with anxiety, especially when it comes to my family’s well being.
I read a blog recently that changed me. I have it bookmarked and go back to it frequently. When you have time, I hope you will read it. Perhaps it will help you as it did me.
Love to you.
https://familycompassionfocus.com/2016/04/29/i-stopped-praying-for-my-kids/comment-page-1/#comment-1083
Thank you, Luann. I will definitely take a look.
Love to you, Luann and Lisa!