I’ve been absent from writing for several weeks now. For many reasons.
But I’d like to jump back into writing here with some thoughts about the gift of normalcy.
When a person or a family has had their world turned upside-down, whether it be by tragedy or even by blessing, some of the hundreds of questions that permeate each and every day center around normalcy: ”Will I ever be normal again? Will my children, my family ever experience normalcy? What does the new normal even look like?”.
Also, there is a tendency to view all things through the lens of “Before” and “After”. When my children make poor choices, my mind instantly, (though I do try to fight it) jumps to evaluating their behavior: “Is this normal, teenage behavior or is it a result of the new life situation? Would they be getting low grades if things were different?” What is normal? What is not normal? What is our new normal?
One of the reasons (among many) for my absence from writing lately has been my intense search in my mind and my soul for the new normal, for both my children and myself. Things are not as they should be. Life is not what I would have hoped it to be, for myself, for my children. But this is the new normal.
Normalcy is a gift. Last night I was given the gift of normalcy, in the form of sitting in the dining room of friends, eating a tremendous amount of junk food, celebrating my girl’s Odyssey of the Mind win, and swapping some hysterical stories. It was an hour or so of rest–a breather, a break. The first break in a long time. It was good to eat, good to laugh hard. It was good to have a bowl of ice cream, and it was good to have a few moments of help parenting back-up when my kids wanted to push me on getting to stay up late to watch a movie. It was an evening of normalcy and it was a tremendous gift.
I am fighting hard right now for normalcy. I am fighting to get my health and my weight back under control. I am fighting hard to provide stability and routine for my crew, in the midst of much uncertainty regarding housing, jobs, and the future. And I am fighting to find normalcy with God–what is my relationship to my God and my Jesus going to look like, as the dust continues to settle? It’s hard, it’s not easy. I fluctuate between desperately needing Him, and desperately hiding away from Him. And I’m fighting for confidence, for strength, for peace and for courage.
And for normalcy.