Discombobulation. The person who began using that word years ago must have been in the middle of a home remodel. Her shampoo must have been in her bedroom and the cotton rounds to remove her eye makeup were surely in her breakfast room. She looked in her living room for that bag of clean towels and she thought, “That’s it. I’m discombobulated.”
God is a God of order. How I feel when things and situations are out-of-order are a good reminder that I’m His kid. His orderly DNA is running through my veins.
I seek order. If I can’t find it, I eat Cheetos. Ok, maybe I eat dark chocolate chips too. I want to run away from the situation and return when every little thing has once again found its place. Life doesn’t work that way, does it?
We started this remodel last year and completed about 2/3 of it before we stopped to replenish ourselves and our pocketbook. We did not realize that almost immediately after we put the last thing back in place, my Mom would become ill. She was diagnosed in October 2017 with an adrenal tumor that we were assured would be benign. We spent October-December trying our hardest to have her cleared for surgery by an endocrinologist. Surgery in January with the hopeful result that it was low-grade and had clean margins. A mere three months later, she was diagnosed with terminal cancer (yep, adrenal and very rare) with only months to live. She died a month later. One. Month.
I say that to say this, I’m tard (Mom’s word.) Puzzlement over my anxiety in this remodel has filled my mind. I wasn’t this anxious last year and the work was much more extensive. Why do I want to scream and throw everything out in the street and start over (house and all.)
A loss is harder on us than we think it is.
My conclusion? Stress from my Mom’s illness and death have taken its toll. I keep thinking I am much farther along in the healing process. The physical and emotional drain of caregiving and the heartbreak of my Mommy’s passing has hit me harder than I realized. My ignorance about grief (we all think we know about it until we experience it and it knocks us on our tails) has led me to believe I’m ready to conquer the world again. I spent seven months helping my deaf Mom navigate a critical illness. When I look at that sentence, I think, Carmen, it’s no wonder why you are tired.
Our bodies talk to us quietly at first and then they scream at us when we don’t listen.
Loss hits us in different ways, amen? My Mom left this world to live with Jesus. Maybe yours did too. Or, maybe you got a divorce, lost a job, lost a breast to cancer, or lost in a million other ways that hit us when we least expect it. Y’all, losing something precious to us is a big deal. We grieve much because we love much. Our love exposes our hearts to the pain of loss. I feel, I know, for me love is worth it. Jesus understands that kind of love and loss. For all He gained through His obedience to our Father God, He lost friends, reputation, loyalty, and His life for folks that didn’t understand His why.
When I force myself to take an honest inventory of how I’m feeling, the check-up shows the need for better self-care. Truthfully looking at our situation is not pessimistic. It’s realistic. Can we be realistic and hopeful at the same time? I believe so. Gosh, I hope so.
I want to be a little sweeter and gentler to myself. I tend to push myself. I’m a Christian. I know all things are working together for my good – and for Moms. But, geez Louise, I miss that girl. I’m thinkin’ you are missing what you lost too.
Can I encourage you to be a little sweeter to you, too? We are going to be ok. I’m sure of it. I’m depending on God to do what He does best for us – restore, comfort, be our peace, hug us tight in ways only He can. I found this list with 7 Tools to Process Grief that I will keep handy to help me. I thought you might need it too.
I’m praying hard for me. If you need prayer for restoration after your loss, will you let me know? I will be glad to pray for you too. Leave me a comment or hit reply if you received this by email. Praying for each other is one way God works in our life. We are often the answer to someone’s prayer. That’s big, Y’all.
May I pray for you, for me?
Lord, we need the comfort of our Daddy God. A comfort that only You can give. We accept it in whatever form you send – a prayer, a hug, a card, text, or call…There are million little ways You work. Let us recognize Your care. Don’t let us dismiss as coincidence Your touch. Without You, God, our pain would never be used for anything good. We are depending on You. We trust You. We thank You for Your faithful love endures forever. In the name of Jesus. Amen.