On a day when I need to be "on", I'm finding it hard to even show up.
My daughter Emma is with her skating team this weekend at a competition in Michigan. These trips are normally a highlight for our family - shared adventure and excitement and anticipation with other families as we watch our girls skate beautiful patterns and formations on the ice and make it seem effortless in the doing.
But my heart is elsewhere today.
The grief comes in waves. Great big, rolling, giant waves. Reminding me of the times I've stood in the surf at the ocean. When for just a second - the wrong second - I turned to look back at the shore and was overwhelmed by one of those rumbling waves. One that came up from nowhere, knocking me down onto the sandy ocean floor.
They catch me so by surprise, these waves of emotion, they leave me gasping for breath.
Fighting back tears that just want to flow and flow and flow.
I can't cry now, can't reveal the open, aching sadness that is just under the surface of the forced smile on my face.
I don't want to talk about it, don't want to think about it......
But I miss my Mom.
I see Emma's skating coach here in the hotel with her Mom and it makes me long to still be able to share these moments with mine.
I share a meal with one of her teammates Mom and Grandmother and think how fortunate they are to still have these times.
Times we take for granted until they are lost to us forever.
It's in these moments that I have no choice but to just trust God.
And, it's in these moments that I really don't want to.
I'm not ready to be the grown-up, not ready for the time when I can no longer pick up the phone and ask her what to do.
Or what she thought.
Or if she would pray.
Or just to hear her say "I love you."
Oh God, you are my strength and my shield, my comfort and my rest.
I choose to trust your heart today, even though I don't want to.
And I know you love me anyway.
With a Courageous Heart,
~~Robin
I totally understand. After my Mom died I confessed to a friend in Taiwan that I was jealous of the fact that she still had her Mom. Her mother had Alzheimers, I think, and she would wander off, etc. Life with her Mom was not easy, so I felt bad for being jealous of that. And I was worried my friend would think I was belittling the pain she was dealing with in regard to her Mom. Thankfully she understood. We both knew that we had things to be thankful for and things to sorrow over and, in different ways, we both missed our Moms. It's hard; there's just no getting around it. I am, as I know you are, so thankful that we have the assurance we will see our Mom's again some day.
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