• 11Feb
    Categories: Grieving Comments: 4

    It’s a rainy day here today.  Rain has a way of bringing out various emotions in me.  I love being on the beach just before a thunderstorm rolls in.  The conflict between the elements, the wind tossing the waves, the sound and smell of danger as the thunder rolls in, somehow it stirs me, strengthens me, gives me the courage to go on.  But today I wasn’t on the beach.  I woke to that calm drippy, gray sound that brings out the melancholy mood in me.  It’s days like this that I want to curl up on the couch or in bed with my hubby and watch a movie, read a book, or make some more babies.  It made for an emotionally sensitive day. 

    For the most part I managed to keep things together until 8 pm when I went to pick up the kids at AWANA.  By then the wind had picked up, the rain was getting worse and I still hadn’t had my chance to cuddle.  I pulled into the church parking lot and went to pull out the umbrella that Dan had bought and had kept in the van for just such emergencies.  Umbrella’s were something that I never thought of.  As I reached for it I thought “Still taking care of me even from the grave.”  And then I lost it. 

    I’ve thought that about several things that Dan has left behind.  I wore (am wearing) his jacket for this winter weather, I’m carrying a laptop rather than lugging around a desktop, I’m using his tic tacs and gum, I have plans to use some of his tools, and then there are his kids who keep an eye on me, too.  (“Mommy you can’t do that, you’re too fat” – when I was pregnant.  “I don’t want you to be sad, Mommy.”  “Don’t forget the vitamins, Mommy.”)  What made this so different?

    I think it’s natural for a woman to want someone to take care of her and that desire is still very much a part of me.  I miss the way he used to watch out for me, make sure I wasn’t overdoing something, refusing to walk to church because I was too far along and he didn’t want me to get hurt (or didn’t want to pull the wagon all by himself and definitely didn’t want me to help), picking up the heavy stuff, carrying the umbrella, worrying about me when I was driving after dark, . . and the list goes on.  Now I have to take care of myself and take care of the kids, too.

    I felt that responsibility a bit more after putting Maranatha (2) to bed.  She and Payden (1) were the only ones home (Caleb doesn’t count) and she was crying because she “lost Josiah”.  I think she was afraid that we had lost Josiah like we had lost Daddy.  So I told her I was going to go pick up Josiah from AWANA’s and that she didn’t have to worry because Mommy was going to take good care of her.  She seemed to accept that and settled down, but that touched a sensitive spot.

    So many thoughts were running through my head as I spent a few minutes venting so that I could pull myself together enough to pick up the kids.  “You know God is supposed to be your husband now, Liisa.”  And rebelliously I thought, “I don’t want God, I want Dan!”  Then I tried to squash that . . that’s not right. 

    But it’s not Dan who is still taking care of me, it wasn’t even Dan that was taking care of me before, it is and was God.  Dan is my picture of God.  He did his best, but he was human and he failed occasionally (although I don’t want to admit it). 

    I thought back to when we were first married and the awe we both felt, at being a picture of a Christian’s relationship with God.  We began to understand various passages of scripture about our relationship with God just because of our relationship with each other.  Once again I am learning more about our/my relationship with God through Dan.  I just wish he could learn it with me.

    This hurts so bad that my thoughts are all a jumble and I can’t seem to get them down on paper (figure of speech) in a manner that seems understandable.  Maybe if I understood it myself . . .  I miss Dan and I’m balking at God filling the void with Himself.  And yet that is the only way to heal properly.  I should be looking to God to take care of me, to help me with the responsibilities, to be my friend, to be the one I talk to all the time, to cry on, to fight with, to just chat . . It seems that I might have put my relationship with Dan before my relationship with the Lord.  Or at least I’m fighting to try to do that now.  I guess admitting the problem is the first step and probably half the battle.  Oh!!!!!  I so don’t want to be in this position right now!!!  (frustration)

    And the rain continues . . . falling on the roof in waves, fighting the wind, showing spurts of energy until it will at last succumb and the sun will once again break through the clouds and shine it’s brightness and warmth on the weather beaten earth.

4 Comments to Rain

  • How wonderful that as you write you work through the problems your heart presents. It reminds me of the psalmist who starts off with this overwhelming burden and ends his psalm praising GOD. I am as a person not that into poems or notes. However, I do know that the LORD has provided you with this outlet of grief. Never forget while from time to time I may forget to pray for you correctly, the HOLY SPIRIT (not really emphasis, more just don’t want HIM to be any less important than the rest of the GODHEAD) never fails in his prayers, and knows exactly what you need.
    Love in Christ.
    Dan

  • ah! the rain. I feel the same way on rainy days. Love to be near the water, feel melancoly if indoors, and just want to cuddle up with hubby, movie, book and well, I’m supossed to be to old to talk about the babies. Any way your words make total sense and do not sound at all jumbled to me. Sounds perfectly like you are finding your new spot in life in the most natural way possible. God understands your wanting Dan and He will gently prod you toward Himself as you let yourself heal. Keep up the good work. You are an awesome person and a great mom.
    Love and prayers from all of us.

  • And here we sit holding out for the sunshine to shine through the gray clouds and make us warm again. Or maybe we will have a rainbow. Our tears and His sunshine – should make one fabulous rainbow. Keep looking for the beauty in all things, sweetie! God loves you and so do we!