Tag Archives: weeping

7 days: and just like that

Yesterday’s post wasn’t meant to be marching orders, but somehow God knew I was going to have a rough night. During the day when my emotions get the best of me, I lay down for a nap to ease my racing thoughts. Generally, naps are a miracle tonic for me providing refreshment, rejuvenation, and a calmer spirit. When people quip about how much I do in a day exhausts them, I always say the secret to my success is taking naps.

Last night had a combination of things go wrong, but the fact that I drank a Coke at eight o’clock probably did not help anything. For me, nighttime is the enemy’s playground. All my worst fears play out as nightmares and my old (looking for joy has really helped curbed this) habit of worrying until I made myself physically sick generally happen under the cloak of darkness. Sadness, fear, worry, doubt, guilt, and second guessing all sneak out from the under the bed or hide behind the closet doors, waiting to pounce once the sun goes down.

In the days following the crash, nightmares would have seemed like child’s play compared to the almost hallucinogenic night terrors we endured every night. I don’t believe in self-medicating, but if there had been some type of coma inducing sleep medicine we could have taken as a family, I would have signed on the dotted line. Personally, I clung to the shortest Bible verse in existence. Jesus wept. John 11:35 (NIV) There were only two things that made sense – we are strong and we will get through this.

Time and time again, friends, family, and sometimes strangers beat the drum to help us rally through tough moments. After turning out the lights last night, the familiar rhythmic beat of love started pounding. Lying in bed, the familiar ding and flashing blue light told me a text message had come in. For more than an hour, I poured my heart out to a friend who knew I needed someone to listen. Her gentle message was one of hope and encouragement not only for me, but also for one of my peeps.

The remainder of the night was spent in fits and spurts of sleep alternated with dichotomous thoughts of staying in bed or just getting up and doing something. It wasn’t sadness and despair, but simply a lot of ruminating thoughts I needed to accomplish. While too much caffeine was also a contributor, I think I just needed time to reflect and talk to God.

After my morning routine, I decided to check my emails, and just like that, God once again nudged someone to reach out and touch my heart. A dear friend who moved to half way around the world wanted me to know that Reed’s light mattered. She had recently reminded me of this in an another message, but this morning I woke up to three pictures she had stumbled across of a magical day that we had spent at her place. In the blink of an eye, I was transported back to the day of gentle blowing breezes, the river light-heartedly lapping at its banks, sunlight dappling through spring green leaves, and air punctuated by a million questions from my children.

Bliss! Pure bliss was the gift she gave me today. Her three snapshots were my modern day gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Reed’s light is shining through her heart too! What a wonderful reminder that God’s word is emphatically true. . .

Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning. Psalm 30:5

The day we made fairy gardens was one of the most magical days!

The day we made fairy gardens was one of the most magical days!

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On this last photo, I can almost hear my Granddaddy whisper from heaven, "Sister, get her hair out of her eyes."

On this last photo, I can almost hear my Granddaddy whisper from heaven, “Sister, get her hair out of her eyes.”

The thing about grief . . . Part 7

from the website www.1065thearch.com

from the website www.1065thearch.com

Originally, I thought that I was going to write a 6 part series on grief, but twice I woke up and clearly God had something other than what I had planned ready to go.  Trust me; His ideas are always better than mine; so here we are with at least a couple more parts.

Since we chose to bury Reed near his Grandpa Earl in North Dakota, we had to drive the 430 miles to the cemetery.  It was our first time out in the larger world since 10 days prior when my whole life changed.  I don’t remember the item we needed on the trip home, but I do remember how out of body the experience seemed.  We stopped at the Super Target in Grand Forks.  I remember standing by the carts at the entrance when suddenly I had to grip the cart corral.  I watched as everyone in the store flit about, going on as normal.  I wanted to scream at them all. They moved around like ants marching in fast forward in a world of pointless errands.  Everything around me was spinning.  My only thought was how can they not all see how sad I am.  Then the worse thought crept in. They really could see the gigantic hole in my heart, but they didn’t care.  I wanted to know when it would be that I could move around again with no worries or cares in the world.

The honest truth was it took months to even feel human.  Even though we continued forward with life, it took that long before I didn’t feel shell-shocked.  But the verse Psalm 30:5 is true, “Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning.”  It wasn’t literal for me in this case, but there came a time that I did reenter society – shopping at the store, attending school functions, and getting my hair done.

The thing I remember most vividly is the first time I really laughed.  I honestly thought I would never do that again.  I had a few giggles at the memorial service where kids who loved Reed shared a few great stories.  If I could earn gold medal in worrying, I would be, at the very least, a silver medalist in laughter.  I love to laugh, always have. It is something that I inherited from my mom, and have passed on to my own kids.  When my heart was ripped into pieces and my whole being was exhausted dealing with two injured children, laughter looked like something that had left without me.

Then one day several weeks after the crash, I was waiting for the sweet family that was bringing us supper that day.  Sawyer was sitting in his recliner watching television.  Normally, I wouldn’t have let him watch this show, but at that point, he was still writhing in pain 23 out of every 24 hours.  So, if watching The Simpson’s kept his mind of losing his brother/best friend (not to mention his own losses), I wasn’t going to declare a war on inappropriate television.

While sitting there, the opening of the show had a postcard arrive in the mail.  Marge looks at the scenic side of the postcard.  At first, I missed the sarcasm.  But when it sank in to my numbed brain, I began to laugh.  I laughed so hard that I trembled.  Tears rolled down my cheeks.  It was at that moment that I knew I would be able to laugh again.  I realized that “joy had arrived in the morning”.  I wasn’t betraying Reed by being happy or laughing.  I didn’t feel guilty laughing at the snarky card. Simply, I enjoyed good humor.

Exhausted, yes!  Overwhelmed, absolutely! Edgy humor, definitely inappropriate! Beginning to feel that I would laugh again, amazing!

It was a simple start, but it was a baby-step beginning to normalcy.  I did an internet search just the other day on that episode.  Sadly, I couldn’t find it in English, but it is available on Youtube in a language I don’t even recognize.  It really isn’t all that funny, but for whatever reason, it sent me into uproarious laughter.

Maybe you had to have been her.

No copyright infringement intended.  All rights reserved to the owners of The Simpson’s.