Living-Deliberately.com

My head was kind of foggy as I pulled myself downstairs today to start breakfast. I was having a hard time remembering what David and I had talked about the night before. When I dropped a fork, it startled me and I jumped easily. Praying was scattered; I couldn’t stay focused even on a singular sentence. And while going through different blogs this morning, I commented on one, and as I reread it after posting, I wondered if it even made any sense.

I got my little crew into the car and squinted into the sunshine. My list of things to get done on grocery/scouting day was even longer than usual but I felt heavy and not in a hurry. The van took the curves and hills and we headed towards town.

Wheaton piped up from the backseat, “Mom!! I forgot my old-gah!”

“Well you’ll be okay without it, won’t you?”

“Noooooo….I need it.” Usually we are so pressed for time that I’d make my six year old tough it out without his blanket. But in that second, as my eye watched him in the rear view mirror and my foot hit the brake to slow down and turn around, I realized it….if I could have had it, I’d be curled up somewhere with a blanket too. I’ve been hurting and too much in “action” mode to let it in.

In a crisis, I’m your girl. I’ll quickly make order of the chaos. Get the practical stuff going. Act first and ask questions later. And then when things are quiet, when the others who freaked out initially are composed and ready to act themselves, into the background I go….to process.

Which means I have a bit of a delayed reaction to some things. It catches even me off guard sometimes. I certainly didn’t see this one coming. But it all made sense at once…the grogginess, the 3-day migraine, the constant feeling of vulnerability. When I get into a “place” like this, I often sort of crave a quiet monastery-like room, some “infirmary of the soul” to hide for a few days, to sleep it off, to think it off; some room with sparse, natural furniture and food brought to the door, and few words. Very few words.

My little boy got his blanket and we headed back into our day. I was surprised, but not really by much, when once we were in town I turned the car toward the church. I noticed this week that I feel safe there; a realization that should have alerted me sooner to the fact that I was feeling a bit threatened in other areas of life. I expected it to be empty and it just about was. But there was someone there who mercifully prayed aloud for me when my words couldn’t have come. Who listened and offered a few kind words; stark contrast to the hateful ones still resonating in my head, ringing in my ears. I had a few moments of healing and then life clamored back in.

But that was okay. There was a laugh and the day went on. In the ocean we swim under the waves. I’m going to swim under for a time now too, let the depths muffle the noise above, and feel myself held by waters healing my wounds.

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