Life Without Mother

The truth: I haven’t been. Well, not as much in my writing as the date of my last post would make it appear. I’ve been hiding but not silent. Hiding my bad days. Because they’re not so beautiful. That “Sunshine” girl of [not so] long ago passed behind a cloud. A dark, stormy cloud. She thought the clouds were passing. That the worst of the storm was behind her. But, that storm only grew. The worst of it was within, rather than without.

That whole first year, I encouraged myself with, “I just have to make it through the firsts.”

The second year, I realized, “No one ever tells you the difficulty of the seconds, due to the firsts having passed. The new normal sets in, and normal doesn’t seem like such a nice word anymore.”

The third year, I feared, “What’s wrong with me? How long until this grief becomes ‘one without hope’?”

This fourth year: “God, I don’t even know who I am anymore. I don’t know how to rest in the comfort of Your wings, much less have any security in the relationships You’ve placed in my life.

The truth: I’ve written many a post that went unposted. My most recent one was written just prior to Thanksgiving. It was a post of the faintest hope clinging to…

Clinging to what? A feather? The tip of His wing? But it is HE who is active in this relationship. HE is the One who comforts, who loves, who protects, who is faithful.

I have often kept from writing (or at least posting) if I thought what I was feeling would compromise the feelings or face of another. But I’ve tried to think through, to rationalize, to “fix” these emotions on my own instead of handing them over to He who speaks Truth and Life into Death.

Talking to God is the most difficult thing for me. And yet, I can never stop talking about Him.

These unfinished thoughts will probably rest until another day, another page.

The truth: I’m afraid. I’m afraid those who called that young 18-year-old Sunshine girl “wise” will look at 22-year-old me and see the backsliding struggle-bus I’ve become. What happened to that girl? How I wish I knew.

She was so positive. So encouraging. So focused on others. And Jesus. So freaking in love with Jesus.

Who is she now? Depressed. Alone. Desperately hanging on to Jesus because as small as her faith is, she knows He alone is faithful and He is love and love “always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres”. She clings to that Truth with all that she has until He can lift her from the “depths of Sheol” where she feels she has dropped.

Edit Note: I don’t think I truly finished this one at the time. I think I dropped off there at the end because of such fatigue. And yet, that is a fitting ending. I did almost not post it. But, I can post it because God is good. He IS faithful and loving and true. Even when I’m not. And I so look forward to the wonderful moments when I can say I’m truly happy because He allowed me to know the pit so that I could know what it feels like to be held in the shelter of His wings.