This is probably one of “those” posts that won’t remain up long. But writing is my solace, so I turn to this forum to clear my soul and my mind.
I was a bit blindsided this afternoon. I was wasting time on Facebook, and looked to the right to find a timeline. I honestly had never messed with the timeline before, but today I was intrigued. My timeline went back to 2008.
2008 was a lifetime ago. Actually, it was a completely different life. One I can barely imagine now. But as I scrolled back through…all the way to 2008, I find myself lost in a whirlwind of wonderful and beautiful and overwhelming memories. There were vacation pictures of our vacation to Duck. There were pictures with the youth from Seaford Baptist Church. There were pictures of fun times with family and friends. And there were beautiful pictures of our wedding vow renewal. Some pictures I deleted. Others I couldn’t bear to let go of…..like the picture of all of us crammed into our small living room to watch Hawaii play in a bowl game. And a picture of all of us right after our vow renewal. These I could not let go of.
Soon after Jack’s arrest, I purged our pictures. Not out of anger or sadness or anything other than thinking it was the best thing for the children at the time. Now I’m not so sure. Did I rob them of memories? Should I have let them make those decisions? Will they some day wish that they had a picture from our wedding? Will I? Things like this haunt me.
So. Late this afternoon I found myself wrecked to the point of tears. Uncharacteristic tears. It’s been a long–a very long–time since I have found myself this wrecked to the point of an ugly cry. It wasn’t just missing my ex-husband, it wasn’t just missing what could have been and what never will be. It was also seeing my crew as young children—and knowing how much I missed out on their lives due to cynicism and my own selfishness. And sin. Seeing their smiles, how sweet they were, how much I wish I had loved them well as children–that I had hugged them more; told them I loved them more often; given them more of myself.
I was wrecked. I’m still somewhat wrecked. I locked myself in my room and set the alarm for 10 minutes, letting the tears flow for 10 minutes. When my iPhone alarm went off, that was the end of that. I pulled the sobs to an end, washed my face and moved on with the busy evening’s activities of music and play practices.
What does one do with this? My heart physically hurts tonight. So much loss. So much loss for my crew. Oh, we are well–we are very well, by the grace of God. But sometimes the ache is very tangible; tonight it is so. What does one do with this. Why did God create us to feel so deeply the memories–both beautiful and horrific–of our lives? And what do I do about tonight? How do I settle this enough to sleep?
I do the only thing I know how to do. I first write. And then I lay it at my Savior’s feet and beg–beg Him for peace and grace and mercy and solace. I remember with thanksgiving the beautiful times we have had. The beautiful times we have now as a crew. The beautiful times we will have in the future. But the hard things?
Those I will try to lay at the feet of my Savior tonight.