But I do know for sure, since that day God is control and I am not. He is my only Hope. Even if this doesn't make sense. I can't explain it. I just know it. Have I had some doubts? Yeah. Have I screwed up? Ask my Hoopla Sisters. Have I messed up parenting my kids? Who hasn't? But for 10 years, 120 months, 520 weeks, 3650 days and 87,600 hours I have showed up/got up/pressed on/picked myself up off the floor/let others hold me up/moved forward even if it was by the skin of my teeth. It hasn't always been pretty. Grief is messy. My children will continue to "fall to pieces" even when they are adults I imagine. This whole thing stinks for them. As I held my child last night, my crying child, I said to him, "I'm sorry. I imagined a completely different story for you life. I can't fix this or change this. But I believe God does have purpose for this, I just don't know what it is right now." To me their just babies, when they cry in your arms, their babies. For this to happen on Easter made me think of how God must have been crying as Jesus, His only Son, hanging on that cross in such pain. For hours He hung, dying and He had to watch Him die.
Below is a journal entry from if you can believe, March 31, 2007. What are the chances? It was an emotional time with my boys then and fast forward 6 years later, last night. Still having to hold children as they cry in my arms.
March 31, 2007
Warning:
This could make you cry. Friday night
Jeff went to dinner with his friend Robert.
My boys were pressing me all week to go to the store to buy some
Playstation game. They have money
burning a hole in their pocket, you know what I mean. My mom is here so she could stay with
Olivia. I don’t really want to go
because it’s pouring rain, really soaking wet rain outside. I haven’t spent much one-on-one time with
them so I concede. Our minivan has the
back bench seat folded down in the Stow-N-Go because we had Jeff’s wheelchair
back there. There’s a big, empty space in our van. As we drive in the pouring rain, a Switchfoot
song comes on the radio. It’s “This is
Your Life” – Ben recognizes this song as the theme song used for Jeff’s 40th
Birthday Party in 2005. All the kids
know the song. Ben starts crying while
it’s on, saying “this song reminds me of daddy, and I’m sad.” Joseph tells me about our friends on the next
block whose neighbor has a brain tumor and says the doctor burned his out of
his head. And why can’t we just burn
Daddy’s out? I realize he’s talking about
radiation and tell them he already did radiation and can’t have any more. Joseph begins crying. Both boys are crying in the back seat, it’s
pouring rain outside and I have to keep driving. We get to Walmart and find a spot to
park. I must enter into this moment with
my sons who are grieving. They need to
feel it. I climbed to the very back of
the van and lay on my back and beckon them to come to me. The three of us lay on our backs, I am holding
them in my arms and we just cry. We cry
because this is just so sad. They have
to see me feeling and grieving. I am
moved by Joseph who begins to wail and sob.
He cannot stop, he really understands the seriousness. We finally decide to go inside Walmart and
just like that, they move onto shopping.
Kids are resilient like that.
They stay in the moment. They are
now in the next moment. I love that
about kids. Wish I could do that. We worry and obsess and have anxiety. I tell about my moment with my sons because
people have been asking how the kids are doing.
I was so moved by the whole thing as I didn’t even want to go in the
first place. I was would have missed the
moment with them if I didn’t take the opportunity while it was in front of
me. Don’t miss your moments.
