Refugee

This morning in prayer I begged the Lord for a directional word to somehow let me know my decision to move home now is of Him and I received Matthew 2: 6-17 the flight into Egypt basically. I thought this an odd verse this time of year for I have only heard it as it relates to Christmas. I took my coffee out onto the back porch to ponder the words I had read. At first I thought perhaps the Lord was directing me to the two references to dreams in those verses for I had a couple of dreams of late which puzzled me. As I sat trying to listen as I chewed on the words it was revealed to me I am but a refugee returning to a refugee’s home.

I tell people I am going home, but even home is not the home I grew up in, it is the place God blessed my parents with after they lost their home in Katrina. “There is no place like home” was made famous by Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz but where is home? I had been envious of my Irish cousins who have homesteads left to them throughout the centuries a place where families resided and passed down to next generations, but here in America that is not so much. We are a nation of refugees, misfits, and pioneers wanting to make it on our own. We are pretty much all restless souls looking for a place to rest our heads and fit in for a time.

I have been mourning leaving this comfortable place I have called home for the last 22 years. I surely will miss seeing a flash of my children’s faces running down this familiar hallway and in our back yard particularly the bonfire pit. I will miss hitting a memory pocket here and there as I drive throughout Selma past Edgewood  and Meadowview remembering the many ball games my babies played there as kids. I will miss hearing their voices echo up and down our street as their laughter preceded them up the hill to our house. I will miss Selma, this is where I raised our family, but I will take it with me in my mind, and when that goes, it will still be in my heart. I am but a refugee, this is what we do. We take our memories with us and make a new home somewhere else.

Home is where family is, and that does not mean a structure, or familiar baseball fields. Home is where you are loved and can love back. People survive in real refugee camps by forming families and caring about each other and this is what God wanted me to know this morning. He is everywhere because He is family and I am confident that I can leave my home of so many years, to go make another home anywhere, as long as He is with me.  I am made to be adaptable because I know my real home is in Heaven and no matter where I end up I am still a refugee. We are all looking for familiar things wherever we go and God is my familiar, constant in my life. Finally my mind has grasped this concept that I am able to thrive wherever the Lord sends me because He is there too. Look at the Jewish people, they thrived in their exile and prospered, so will I.  I am blessed because I will already have family there waiting to surround me.

So I am a refugee or maybe more of a nomad for I am able to take so many belongings with me at my choosing. Refugees pretty much leave with the clothes on their backs. I am blessed as I pack up my tent and make my way to my next stop, the town I called home for so many years, yet not the house of my youth. I have a long way to go to be a true refugee since I have so much stuff to bring with me to put in storage in hopes of one day having another home to put my belongings into again. I have not real attachment my stuff now. If I lose it all as in a hurricane or tornado, it is of no importance to me, I have what is most important on my person at all times. I have the Lord and like it or not, He has me, and everything else is adaptable. My relationship with Him is all I can take with me back home when I die, the rest of this stuff will rot. It is nothing to me, and will mean nothing “back home”.

Don't ask me why

This past week not only have I had major decisions made and new firsts since Steve died, but I have been thinking so much of him it hurts. Don’t ask me why because I don’t know but I am in my second mourning I guess. My daughter is here, sleeping in the other room and she reminds me so much of Steve with her silly playful self I am sure this is also keeping the mourning pot stirring. Maybe it is because I pushed away so many memories and reminders of Steve so quickly and now that I have made the decision to leave this house, it is all catching up. Whatever the reason, it is back and I need to get a handle on this.

Does this happen to everyone? It could be because Steve was on the road so much and I was used to him being gone, but never this long and it is finally sinking deeper into my conscience. Yeah that is probably it I guess, and this is all the thoughts and feelings delayed until now. I wondered why I was doing so well so soon and now feel like such a basket case again. I have picked up the phone to call him so many times over the last week. I am really missing him and our long sometimes boring phone calls. The house has really been like a tomb until Mary came back for a visit and brought it back to life with her and her friends last night. I miss the noise of family fun and the joy and loudness of life. It hit me when Millie did her 20 minute loud barking, yipping and running madly around the house greeting Mary yesterday. I miss seeing her do this when Steve came home. She and I have both become quiet and somber and it was good for both of us to go crazy yesterday greeting Mary.

Everything reminds me of Steve today as I try not to bring him up too much to Mary. I know she is missing him as much as I am and perhaps we will both share a few moments of cry time this week, but I just didn’t want to start our visit like that. This may be the last time she is home in the house she grew up in and it is hard on both of us as we go through memories shared here. So yes, I guess we will mourn together the loss of our home and Steve and get through this wave together. I am glad to have someone to suffer through with me because I have pretty much done most of this stupid mourning alone. I also intend to make new memories with her and have some good fun too. She is so precious to me and I hurt because she hurts as I know my mother hurts for me too. The maternal circle of life goes on. This pain shared by me and Mary can only be handled by crying it out and loving it out. We have danced around this issue, she doesn’t want me to feel bad and vice versa, but we will do this and perhaps when I leave here it won’t be as bad as it could be since I have a partner to mourn with.

Don’t ask me why it comforts me to have Mary here to burden with my mourning. It shouldn’t be this way, but she knows how I feel and I know the loss she feels. Does misery really love company? I am just amazed at how many times I have cried this past week. I really think it has to do with my decision to finally leave my home to a realtor and get on. Maybe I have been clinging to this house and dragging my feet and that was a protective measure, but I am resigned to go now so the emotions are catching up. Whatever the reason, just so you people know out there in blogo land, I thought I was done, but it is still there and I hear it is all part of “the process” so just when you think it is over, it comes back to bite again. Another wave to ride and I plan to ride it out again. There really is no rhyme or reason and no pattern to wrap your mind around grief. It is sneaky, but it will not rule me. Mary and I will have a great time together and as long as we are together, we celebrate our lives and Steve. So this is a good thing and will eventually be a great thing one day after all this sadness goes away. It is all good even the hard part.

Decisions

Yesterday I went to a funeral for a truck driver much younger than my husband. He had a stroke or an aneurysm I am not sure  which but it doesn’t really matter, he is gone and his family is devastated. That was the first funeral I have been to since Steve's and it was good to see that there were so many people gathered in that funeral home. I did not know the man, I knew his brother and sister and my heart broke for them. There is nothing to say to them that will comfort the way I wanted to comfort which is take away their pain. More than likely they won’t even remember my presence, but I know they felt the prayers and the love from me as it mingled with the love in that room. My heart aches for them as they begin this wretched process of grief.

Of course it brought back memories of seven months ago and the extraordinary week we had. I say extraordinary because it was filled with so much love and laughter as the memories, tears and love for each other and Steve wrapped around us to console and begin the healing process. I have to say, and this is not judging, I enjoyed our gathering in the comfort of our backyard for the whole week and even on the day of the funeral much better. Call me claustrophobic, but I just wanted to be free from the stuffiness of a funeral parlor where you have to be cornered near the body to receive people. For most people that works but for me it was too much.  I enjoyed being home with my family where Steve always wanted to be but couldn’t due to the nature of his job. That was a good decision for us that we made that week. We are not meant to be in funeral homes. 

That decision was so much easier for me than the one I have to make now. I trust God knows what is best for me so my struggle is whether I am contrary to that. I have to move and up until this point my inner knowing has been God will bring the buyer and I won’t have to get a realtor who will get money I need to live on until I get up and running. I had two buyers one of course found out he had no financing after all and the other just really surprised me to the point of pain. He was going to buy, had the financing and just backed out at the thought of signing a purchase agreement. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach and am still trying to understand why this happened. I spent this month trying to figure out what I did wrong and what I need to do to repair my breech with God. Was it even God or was it the enemy? If it was the enemy, why hasn’t God fixed it yet? These are all my questions I have posed during my prayer time and have gotten no response. Then my son called and said I really need to put it on the market and leave. I awoke yesterday saying yes that was a great idea and made the decision to get out will proceed with this tomorrow or sometime this week. I am still hoping for a rescue or as the government would say a bailout.

That said, my struggle is with my hurt and confusion with God right now. If He is my provider and my good husband and my decision maker, why is He not bringing a buyer like I sincerely felt He would, to protect what little money I have? I really don’t want a realtor to have the money I need to help with my move. I want answers to this but am coming up empty, so I just say ok Lord, it really isn’t my money anyway, it is yours. I just feel like I am taking the reins again and I don’t want them. I feel I have sat still long enough and grieved until I could throw up but at this point dry heaves only. I need movement now and I need family. I have more questions than answers right now and I feel a bit in rebellion if I do this because up until this point I have trusted that God will bring a buyer to me, protecting me. I guess this is a crisis in faith I have to work through. I hear all the saints of the past have gone through it not that I am even near being a saint. So during this dark night, I wait some more with my eyes ever searching for the light of day. I know it will come but this darkness is so thick and depressing I am feeling claustrophobic. I need to be outside.

So right now I decide to call the realtor since I have had no other prospects and can't wait forever. I will continue to hold out hope for that crazy bailout, but I know God only wants the best for me and I am clinging to that. I know that even if I jump off this cliff, He is will either catch me or patch me up. I am hoping for the catching part. Dear David, no wonder you wrote so many psalms and danced so much. It is hard sitting still and waiting. Maybe I will dance today too, and no it won't be Zumba it will be something less spastic. Not that Zumba is spastic, just when I do it it is, so I will opt for something more my style, maybe freestyle it a bit. Get ready to laugh Lord, hear I come.

Ryan’s Graduation

I can say it was a bittersweet day for me today. I knew it was coming from way off and have put it out of my mind so much I didn’t get nearly as excited as I wanted to be today. Our second oldest son graduated from Pharmacy school today a process started many years ago.  Four years ago Steve and I went to Auburn to attend Ryan’s white coat ceremony which began his four years of schooling. That ceremony was a day which made us burst with pride and excitement for Ryan as we saw his dedication and determination and knew he would get through these four years and come away with his doctorate.

Ryan pulled through with honors and graduated cum laude, proving once again when he sets his mind to something, he will do it. As I watched him today in the same place where it all started four years ago at that white coat ceremony, I couldn’t help but feel sadness too.  I was sad for Ryan and my other 3 children who will not have their father around for these memorable occasions that Steve treasured so much.  Many holidays over the last years, I have spent alone because he was on the road but graduations and weddings were milestone family events he wouldn’t miss.  He always made sure to give plenty of notice for these occasions no matter what the cost. The last milestone was my 50^th birthday last year.

This was a milestone for all of us but for Steve is was like it was his extra special day. I say this because if I had to name one message Steve was impassioned about it was to get an education.  I laugh as I sit here and the second message popped into my head that being sex before marriage can kill you. This was his gift he gave to all of his children, planting seeds about the importance of education since they were very young. All of our children knew his passion was to have his children educated and have a direction in life and a career they would thrive and be happy in. They have all gone to college and we have 2 graduations under our belt.  

This will sound odd but in my mind throughout the ceremony, I felt Steve there with me.  I knew exactly what he would have been doing or saying if he had been there with me.  I suppose 29 years with someone does that. I felt his hand holding mine tightly as Ryan’s name was called out and I saw the tears well up in his eyes too. I saw his eager expression as Ryan walked off the stage and past our row looking our way. I know exactly how he would have reacted and interacted with me and the kids and I just allowed my mind to go there.  It was an indulgence I really shouldn’t have allowed myself, but I really wanted to share this day with him.  Thank God I always cry at their graduations, but also grateful I had my friend with me to pray away those tears reserved for the privacy of my home later. It was such a wonderful day; I didn’t want to ruin it with sadness.

I enjoyed my time with family, I enjoyed my imagination time with Steve but as the day wore into night, he was gone again and reality bit my. I started this blog last night after my big day but it got so hard to type with the tears streaming so profusely I had to set it aside until I could get a grip this morning. I am better, just had to get through that big wave. I was surprised at how many tears I still had left but it really was a big first. I only hope this was my homework and it is completed, for the rest of the firsts this year. I am most concerned about the wedding, but will take it as it comes, one day at a time, one tear at a time.

So Ryan, my son, I am so proud and I hope you felt your dad there yesterday as strongly as I did. He loved you so much and was so excited for you. He was so proud of the husband you are to Shannon and the father you are to Hannah.  He always knew you would work everything out and allow God to direct your life.  I hear him saying “I’m proud of you Doc”. Keep up the good work Ryan, you are a good man and you had such a loving father. He is missed but he is always around. I love you.