thoughts from the deep recesses

I miss him so desperately. I've found myself in the laundry room crying into clothes he left behind. And sobbing uncontrollably on the couch. And wishing each morning for his "Auntie Cathy, good morning!" I feel a deep desire to move beyond this. To push forward (or is it backward?) and be the Mom I need to be. The wife. The daughter. But the truth is, I feel as though I've lost a child. And I can't just move on quite yet. Maybe never. I find I am mad at myself. Angry that I was so naive to think I could do this without dying a little inside. Wondering if it would have been wiser to keep my distance. But then I remember - I made a conscious decision to love him completely. And to trust God to heal my heart in the aftermath... Of course, now that I'm here - in the aftermath, I wonder what in the world I was thinking. Because this sucks. I've worried about posting - because I know you've all said what needs to be said. You've offered your comforting

Maybe there's a reason I'm making so many granny squares... Maybe subconsciously, I still feel like I need another row of them around the bottom of my dress...

that I'm feeling a little awkward about blogging. I don't want to seem flippant and post about normal, every day life. But I also don't want to bore you to tears with the reality of this tough time we're walking through. So I'm not really sure what to post. It's kind of indicative of my thoughts on life in general, actually. Because I'm finding it hard to go back to 'normal.' For eight months, I was the lady who was taking care of an orphan from Africa. And now I'm just a lady. Not sure exactly how to be just that again... Normal. Just another lady carting her kids around from school to practices to friends' houses. Making dinner. Doing laundry. No doctor's appointments or hospitals or medication runs. No exercises. No cooking special African food. Just normal stuff. Like everybody else. And it feels more than just a little weird. So that's where I'm at right now. On this Wednesday. This very normal Wednesday...

Crocheting granny squares... just learned to do this a week or so ago and I can't keep my hands off my yarn and hook... My sweet husband. He always knows just what I need. Baking. There's lots of yummy stuff at my house right now. I hardly baked at all when T. was here. The last few days? Baking up a storm. Homemade challah bread, anyone?

I know I've said I love quiet. But this morning it was deafening. Even the kids mentioned how quiet it seemed. T. had a huge personality. His teeny tiny body did not take up much space, but his 'person' did. So it feels as if there is a lot of extra space here now... empty. It's interesting to me how this empty feeling permeates everything I do... and yet how we're able to go on, doing laundry, getting ready for school, pushing forward in the midst of this feeling of missing someone so terribly. And yet - my heart is so full. Full of gratitude for this heaviness. This emptiness. We feel empty because our lives have been filled to overflowing with this amazing experience. This amazing boy. This overwhelming, across-the-globe love... I am holding the goodbye in my heart. It was tender. And sweet. And I will forever remember the exchange of love - the eye contact and the hugs and the sorrow. It's a precious thing I will always hold tight in my memory. The kids are

Sorrow overwhelms. It finds it's way into every task and threatens my ability to function. In invades my thoughts defiantly showing it's strength and rudely insisting that I pay it mind. Fear permeates. It holds tight to my heart wrapping it's insidious fingers through and through while it's deathly whisper does it's work: convincing me that I cannot face this. Heartache swells. Promising to overflow and destroy the facade of platitudes and maturity. It laughs at wisdom and snubs it's nose at healing. It's used to victory and assumes it will hold the position of power. Despair waits. Hanging in the shadows for it's time, knowing full well when to step in and take over. And then, Grace appears in tears that take these strangely powerful, intangible monsters and turns them into this water and salt miracle of Grace. And as the liquid Grace flows from a seemingly bottomless well, it deflates sorrow. Conquers fear. Releases heartache. Crushes despair. It take

This is Dad. He has an afro. And the other one is you. You had cancer.

Sometimes I simply cannot believe the amount of noise in this house. I have two children whose normal speaking voices border on yelling - plus a dog who is more vocal than most men - and stereos in every room with children who feel the need to play them at maximum volume... That's why my favorite time of day is right after the kids have left for school and I can sit down in my chair and drink my coffee in total silence. This makes me feel old, this need for quiet... I'm fairly certain it's a sign of agedness that I just can't concentrate when there's so much noise. Can anyone relate? Speaking of noise, sometimes, when it's really, really noisy, I'm reminded of a really old Veggie Tales where Archibald is saying "Stop yelling! Yell, yell, yell!" I have no idea which movie it is. But I like to say it, in my best Archibald voice. Speaking of Veggie Tales, it kind of makes me sad that all of my children are past Veggie Tales and there are all sorts of

So, I was doing pretty well managing my emotions. I kept telling people that I had processed a lot of my grieving over Tejan's departure back in January - when we were so close to saying goodbye... and so that must be why I wasn't feeling overly emotional about it this time around. I hadn't shed any tears. Hadn't choked up in that strange, overwhelming way where I feel like my whole head is filling up with fluid and my throat is so constricted I'm just sure I'm going to die. Nope. I was doing just fine. And then I went out to dinner with some girlfriends. And while I was a little socially inept because I'm a kind of overwhelmed and not really wanting to talk too much lately (perhaps in subconscious fear that I might touch on a nerve that would cause my aforementioned steely resolve to crumble) I thought I got through the evening fairly well. I didn't tear up - or need tissue for any fluids defiantly leaking from my facial orifices... until I made the a

Last time we had one week left we were buried in 18 inches of snow. School was cancelled for the whole week. No one was going anywhere. We had to cancel goodbye parties. And we all laid around the house, sort of wallowing in the unfairness of it all. This time, the sun is shining. It's supposed to be in the 70's this weekend. We have several goodbye parties scheduled. And the kids are playing together beautifully. So it's good. It's good that we had to wait. We have been given a gift. And I'm opening it slowly, savoring every moment. My heart aches, but I'm more present this time than last... And it's going to be okay.

because this evening after dinner two little neighbor kids rang the doorbell and asked, "Can we play with the brown guy?" *****

It's good to be back from Spring Break and return to the routine that school and work bring... I love vacation - but I love routine better, I think. I saw a squirrel outside this morning running head first down the side of the fence. Can you imagine climbing downward, head first? God must have made little squirrel bodies quite differently from ours, because I'm quite certain we could never do that. It makes me get all quivery and scared just thinking about trying. I found this little travel sized Scrabble game in a box in my studio over the weekend. I'm slowly working toward complete and total organization in there. Anyway - I bought this at a garage sale, I'm sure. I probably thought I could use the pieces for some altered project someday. But as I started to play with it, I made this happy little family grid and decided to glue it in place and put it up on display. It makes me exceedingly happy. I cannot get a grip on cleaning... the dusting and vacuuming is just a ne

I can't tell you how many times I've come to post on my blog and have sat, staring at the huge whiteness of the empty 'new post' screen, only to click the little 'x' and walk away. I just don't have many words right now. We are down to two weeks left with T. And I am perplexed and overwhelmed and relieved and exhausted. It's been a hard couple of months, this last extension of his stay... And I haven't always handled it well. I find myself with an ugly heart. I think the reason I haven't written is because I don't have happy stories to tell. All I have is my tired, lonely struggle to finish this journey. And that's not very fun to read about, is it? In some ways, I am void of emotion. I think I processed so much grief in January when we were so close to saying goodbye - there's very little energy left to go through that again. And so I wait. I wait for the new grief - the finishing grief I didn't get to last time. I know it's