life goes on...?

The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,

He leads me beside quiet waters,
He restores my soul.

He guides me in paths of righteousness

for his name's sake.

Psalm 23:1-3

On our way to the funeral last week, Steve noticed that the check engine light was lit. Of all days, we thought. The need for a pause, rest and comfort was punctuated by this little, urgent warning light in the dashboard of our minivan. So after the funeral, Steve and I changed our clothes and drove the car to the service center. Later that day, he dropped me off on the way to baseball and I waited at Express Auto Service for over an hour while the mechanics installed a new oxygen sensor. I stopped at Albertsons for a gallon of whole milk and when I arrived home, Abigail needed her diaper changed, the kids clamored for attention and for food and we cared for the myriad of needs that life brings.
Life goes on.
Or does it?
On that day, as Steve and I sat sipping coffee, I felt as if the world was moving rapidly, with blurring speed, around me. I, on the other, hand, felt a bit lost, like I'm wandering about, in slow motion, then stopping altogether. Where am I? Where is my heart?
The only tangible reminders of loss-- flower arrangements placed around our home, a stack of sympathy cards, meals brought every other night. We are still in a period of mourning. Yet otherwise, with each day, I step-- and choose to step- back into what we called "normal life" before.
Yet what is normal now? Much of what has caused confusion is that life has been altered, forever, by Evelyn's passing. It is hard to appreciate the sum total of all the thoughts and plans and expectations that one has while baby grows in the womb. As a mother, the countless times you place your hand on your stomach and imagine...dream...plan. It is the process of making room for another child in a family that already seems complete. And by the time the baby comes, you realize that your family was not complete until this moment-- because of the multitude of ways you inched that space wider and wider until it was life-size to fit that little one.
So when life passes, unexpected, that space is really still there. And what to do with it? Close it up, fill it, deny it was there? I cannot do the latter. And I wonder what it means to fill up the emptiness-- after the funeral, I continued to paint. I needed-- and still need-- to create something beautiful, meaningful, life-giving. Steve needed to go back to baseball, to work out in the yard. Is that filling a space? Or is it doing what we needed to so that grief did not engulf us fully?
I am reading a book by a woman whose granddaughter died unexpectedly at age two. She describes personal devastation, depression, utter grief. Yet she makes a remark that I found amazing-- to embrace grief. Looking grief in the eye and saying, "Hello." What does that mean? How do you embrace grief? I know what it means to deny the grief. Yet to welcome it is something that seems alien to me. Perhaps this understanding will come in time.
And so life goes on, but still I take time to pause. I journal at night. I write in this blog. Steve and I talk. At night, tears come unexpectedly, hushed sobs into my pillow over my beloved daughter. With each day, I miss her more because her absence is becoming more and more real. I miss the life that we would have had together and I miss most of all the opportunity of knowing her on this earth. I miss that I never got to look into her eyes or see what color hair she had. I miss being able to comfort her and rock her to sleep. There is much more...
Yet still, life goes on and I am thankful, in many ways, for that.
...for Nathanael who still asks for "snuggles" at night and is learning to read chapter books, bat from a machine pitch and grows more mature each day,
...for that shoulder to cry on, even after hours,
...for family and friends who still call, understanding that the loss doesn't get filled up in two weeks,
...for peace lilies and an unexpected pasta casserole on an unusually busy day,
...for a girl's night out, fellowship and amazing food,
...for a babysitter who loves our kids and loves the Lord,
...for tea parties with cut flowers, a candle and a homemade brownie-- shared with my favorite five year old girl,
...for hearing Lydia read her first book,
...for giggles and squeals when I played with Abigail on the recliner today,
...for the comfort and peace that goes beyond our understanding...

thank You Jesus,

thank You.