"Upsetting the "normal" while creating the beautiful." Annette Kruschek |
I've been silent for awhile. I have lots to say but fearful of telling you, "the way it is". Every time I put my words to the keyboard I get nervous thinking I am being too vulnerable and walk away from my thoughts.
Tonight though it occurred to me... life is like a big arena. You have those who are in your arena that support you and show up no matter what; then you have those who are the bystanders who secretly watch from the sidelines in hopes of seeing heartache and failure. I've decided that there are many cheap seats but if you are in my arena then I'm going to take a chance and tell you about failing, falling and heartache. Since you are reading this then I'm assuming you bought tickets inside my arena and didn't choose the cheap seats. So here goes.. . It's been a loooooong winter. It's been seven weeks of living inside our home. Seven weeks of Dan and I splitting up for sporting events, birthday parties and all outings. It's been a balancing act not just for us but for our kids. They paid the price as well. No friends were able to come into our home and having two parents cheer them on together was a past time. The goal was to keep Evelyn healthy for her surgery. It seemed that everything we did focused on the goal of getting Evelyn to her surgery. Well, personally speaking what also happened during those seven weeks was a mental dress rehearsal I walked myself through. I envisioned the surgery day, the outcome, the complications, the tragedy. I'll be honest, I walked myself through what life would be like without our daughter. I imagined her not surviving and what that would look like for our family, my marriage our future. It's messy. It's complicated and it's something that I never thought I would ever do as a Mother. I'm not telling you this for your sympathy because here we are on the other side of a successful surgery praising God for his answered prayers, but I am telling you this so I can actually put my thoughts to the keyboard and see them as they are... truth. Evelyn conquered another surgery. She came home in 10 days; beating her record by a day from her last surgery. She did what she does best... surprised many intelligent doctors by her sheer grit to survive. Being in the hospital and watching Evelyn crush goals while doing it with a positive attitude was a beautiful thing. Watching my prayers be answered and seeing God breathe life into her little body was such affirmation that he created her for something special here on earth. BUT the flip side to this love story is the homecoming. One would think it would be trumpets blaring and confetti flying through the air but instead it was as if I woke up to a dream and now I was no longer in back in January but rather in March. Where did those two months go? Who was I during those two months? How well of a Mother was I to the rest of the kids for the two months? My husband... who was that person? We essentially have been tag-teaming and "surviving" for two months while "smiling" through it so the rest of the kids never sensed we were scared. The weight of that takes a toll. If feels really heavy and what I noticed most... my inner most joy was buried. One thing I have learned after the death of my parents and my brother is this... finding the joy in everyday things isn't as easy as it once was. It takes time. I remember the first time I genuinely smiled after my Dad died and I knew it was from him. It felt so good to feel happiness that was genuine. Well, life began to feel lighter and easier. Smiles came naturally and I felt like I had a good grip on life again. Then death came knocking on my door again. My Mother and my brother. I have been really trying to find that genuine happiness. I know that is what my Mom would want but to be honest, she passed away and then two months later Dan brought Evelyn home from China. Death was staring me in the face again through not my parents, my brother but rather my own child. I guess one could say that we have been living on high alert or in the "red zone" for quite sometime. I want it to be perfectly clear... I wouldn't change one thing about our decision with our faith-filled yes with bringing Evelyn into our family. She is absolutely the glue to keeping our family together. She completes us in a way we never could have imagined BUT her presence has rocked us, pushed us and scared us like no other child in our family. Evelyn has made me more vulnerable than I ever imagined possible. "Vulnerability"... showing up when you don't know the outcome. BOOM! That in a nutshell is Evelyn. That in a nutshell is why I feel like I woke up and now am wondering where the last seven weeks have gone. I have been trying to figure out her outcome. I have been trying to envision what life would look like without her in our home, our family pictures and in future memories. Here I am looking at a calendar that says March but I am stuck wondering where January and February have gone. JOY is the most vulnerable emotion. I have been dress rehearsing tragedy for too long. I guess one could say I am terrified to feel joy because I am afraid of the other shoe dropping and my greatest fear becoming a reality. Feeling JOY, deep to the core joy is something that I am craving. My prayers right now are for me to acknowledge these past two months and accept how difficult they were on our entire family. I pray that these past two months have made my other kids more accepting of taking turns with their parents, more patient with a change in plans and more loving. I pray that these past two months have been a testimony to my marriage vows; in good times and in bad. God sees Dan and I. He sees our love for one another and never ever would ask for heartache or heartbreak. I continue to tell myself that God never ever wastes a hurt. He uses our hurts for his good. I believe with everything in my being that Evelyn has a purpose that is beyond my comprehension. I just need to get out of my own head and live life with her rather than dress rehearsing tragedy. JOY. I'm declaring it today. I've written it down. You all have read it and have agreed to buy only the seats within my arena. The cheap seats are just that... cheap. The view is bad. Thank you for joining me in my arena and allowing me to be real. It's time to find JOY in the ordinary moments again.
5 Comments
|
AuthorI am a proud Mother to eight children and a wife to my very best friend. I work hard, play hard and love until it hurts. Archives
January 2023
|