There is no way back to normal.
It simply doesn't exist anymore.
Some days it may appear "normal" because outwardly that's how it looks.
There are times when I am numb.
There are times when the waves of grief come crashing.
For a couple weeks I woke up and the pain wasn't so bad...numb.
When this happens I think -
Maybe this is it.
Maybe this is the way it's going to be now...just numbness.
A reprieve from the pain.
Then it hits again.
Just like in the beginning....
Ripping my heart out to where I have a hard time breathing - not literally - I really am breathing like 'normal.'
At times I want to double over because the heartbreak is so intense.
How can I go on?
How can I make it through another day?
How is this real?
I miss my son so much, I can hardly stand it.
I read an article not too long ago that said
life is not like a box of chocolates. You choose your life, you choose....
Not.
I understand about choices - but
I think Forrest Gump had it right.
Life is like a box of chocolates.
You never know what you're going to get.
In life, you can't spit out that piece you don't like.
You have no choice but to chew it...
You have to keep it in your mouth and swallow it.
You can't let the box just set either.
You are continually given another piece, and you take it.
The good thing is that sometimes you get a piece that is tasty....for the moment.
So you enjoy it, because you know you're going to be given another piece and that one may not be as good.
You can't pinch a piece out of the bottom to see what you're getting -
You can't put the candy back.
You have to go with what you get.
If you see me smiling it may be because I'm enjoying a caramel chocolate day....
Or I may be chewing on a mushy, sugary, tasteless chunk...
You never know.
This journey is so like that.
Today I'm crushed to pieces.
I woke up with that heartbreaking intensity that takes my breath away.
I don't know how I can make it through another moment -
Only I do know how I will make it.
If it wasn't for my living, loving, ever-present Father it would be impossible.
I would like to jump out of this body and the pain and make it all go back to the "good old days" when we were all together again.
Only I know that is not an option.
I've got to keep on keeping on.
When I get these hard to swallow pieces of candy, I have to hold tightly to my heavenly Father's hand.
He doesn't criticize and turn away from me because I'm having difficulty.
He doesn't walk away from me.
He doesn't love me less because I'm having a hard time.
I know sometimes I make faces about this candy I don't like.
I don't act sweet.
I get frustrated and want to shout (sometimes I've been known to do that.)
"I don't like this journey, God. I don't like it at all."
"I can't do this!"
Sometimes there is no one I can turn to because this is private pain....it shouts from the inside where nothing makes sense, and there are no words, no way to describe it.
I want to take the box of chocolates, dump it all out, and say, "There. I don't want another piece, thank you very much."
"Take the bad tasting candy out of the box. I would rather not have had that piece in there in the first place."
Only it's not my choice.
I have to hold it.
It's mine.
Even if at times it's hard to swallow.
Yes, this journey is hard.
Anyone who says it's not, who says just get over it, get on with it, has not walked
this road.
Be glad.
Today I don't like this box of chocolates I'm holding.
I don't have to like it, but I have to go through it.
I also know in this same box there is sweetness - there are wonderful blessings.
There are many things, people I am thankful for.
I don't forget that.
Even in the down times, there is hope.
There is a rainbow of promise in this stormy life.
I like what Jesus says. "In this world you WILL have tribulation - trials and sorrow."
He also says, "Be of good cheer. I have overcome this mess of a world."
And that makes all the difference.
Oh, and by the way -
sometimes it's ok to put the lid on the box, and just be still.
Abba Father encourages it.
"Come to me all you who are weary, and heavy laden and I will give you rest."
I think I will.
Selah
