This weekend Nathan and I went away for a couple night without the kids. It gave me a chance to process, which I’ve not been able to lately. These past several weeks have been filled with special times, reflections, and events. But without my parents, things just seem a little less special, and I feel guilty for feeling that.
On Palm Sunday 19 years ago, I was baptized. Shortly after my baptism, my mother prayed to receive Christ as her Lord and Savior while my dad rededicated his life to Christ. I will share my testimony at a later time, but each year I think about the girls who prayed for me over the course of few years and invited me to church. I wonder if they know that their dedication to prayer, as high schoolers, plays an essential role in my confidence of where my parents reside now, in heaven. As far as I know, without them I wouldn’t have come to church. Without me at church, my parents wouldn’t have come to church. Without their faith, I would be broken today rather than hopeful of a future day. This Palm Sunday was just a little more special.
Easter is my favorite holiday! This year Easter was extra special as my son was baptized. During his testimony he mentioned that one day he will see his nanay and papa again. It was almost too much for me as I held back tears. I am just so grateful that we will indeed be together again. As we hosted and people gathered at my house to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection and David’s baptism, I found myself combatting feelings of irritation. I still don’t know why God took my parents. I know that I’m supposed to trust God that all things work together for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. But friends this trust thing is hard. This whole situation is hard and I struggle! As loved ones gathered, I found myself keeping my distance. I mean, no one likes a “Debbie Downer” but everyone’s happiness was just too much. This is all very immature. Believe me, I know!
Last week I was up, this week I’m down…what will next week bring?
I’m struggling with how to be honest with others, especially when I don’t fully grasp how I’m doing, what I’m thinking, and where I’m at in understanding my life. What am I supposed to be learning from what has happened? What am I supposed to be doing now as a result of what God has allowed me to go through? What does the future that God has prepared for me look like? The enemy still whispers lies… that no one understands what I’m going through, that I’m alone in this. I am blessed to be surrounded by a core group of people who are “real,” who are willing to love me and process with me, even when my mood and grief can be unpredictable. There’s no judgement, just love.
Today would have been my mom’s 64 birthday. If she were here, there is no doubt in my mind that she would have spent it at the baseball field, sitting behind the backstop, yelling at the umpires, while my dad ambled away slowly shaking his head because there is nothing that could have been said to stop her from doing what she wanted. I can see her yelling at my brother, because she didn’t like the tone of his voice as he coached his son from 3rdbase. The day would have ended at her house, making lasagna, listening to each person’s rendition of the day’s activity, while the boys fielded ground balls across the living room. It would have been a great day. I get sucked up in the nostalgia of it all, and I am overwhelmed by sadness that it will never be this way again.
Instead today my brother and I exchanged texts and I watched his team’s game stats update on an app on my phone. Most of this afternoon my stomach has been in knots and my eyes have been weepy. It’s just as I write this that I begin to feel the knot in my stomach unravel.
As you can see, the past weeks have been wrought with emotional tension between what I’m feeling and “is that really what I’m feeling?” Right now, most frequently I’m just confused. My feelings and emotions cannot be trusted. They are fickle and ever-changing, but sometimes take up residence in my mind and send me on an emotional rollercoaster.
In Psalms 147:3 the author, David, writes:
“He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds.”
My heart is broken and my wounds are still fresh. I need to believe the words that David said. I need to believe in my core that Jesus will heal my heart and will bandage my wounds. He is the hope that I cling to, He is the one who will redeem my heart. In the muck and sadness, Jesus Christ needs to be my all.