Words are hard for me lately.
I want so badly to find my voice again…to talk about the things that are happening in my life right now. It’s not a very amusing or happy place I find myself in… which is why I have all but stopped blogging. With a title like “simply a musing” blog, what is one to do?
What’s happening in my life lately? One of my 6 brothers died recently, my stepdad is dying a slow and painfully frustrating death from Alzheimer’s, my mom is losing her ability to walk – and I feel overwhelmed at times by the changes taking place seemingly all at once.
I think about David when he was in the wilderness and running from the wrath of Saul and think I can identify, even if on a much smaller level. I’d like nothing better than to run in hopes of escaping what the future holds for me and my family…but I realize that God has ordained these events and I am supposed to stand firm and grow through this. I just don’t want to go through this. It hurts.
It’s agonizing to watch the man that raised me stare at me blankly when I ask him if he’s hungry, his mind searching the recesses and trying to remember what hunger is. It’s painful when he forgets where he’s going after two steps and stops and stands unsteadily for 15 minutes at a time until one of us finds him and asks him if he’s okay. It hurts to think that he will very soon forget my mother’s face, or my face…or the faces of my children and we will all be strangers to him. But the most painful reality is knowing that he’s slipping away and there’s nothing any of us can do about it.
My son still prays for his grandpa’s salvation every night. I’m at the point now where I realize that he might not ever accept the Lord as his Savior. My son is stronger at 7 that I am at 41, for he tells me that the results are up to God, we can’t give up, because Grandpa’s soul is depending on us. And he truly believes that his Grandpa will get saved and be in Heaven when he gets there. Because of my son, I can’t give up that one hope, but it’s not looking good…and I don’t know how to accept it gracefully.
My brother died the way he lived – hopped up on every kind of painkiller known to man. He was a tortured soul and had lived a very disjointed life. Part of me wants to believe that he’s in a better place…but part of me wonders if he ever really and truly made his peace calling and election sure. I hope that he did, but a hope-so salvation is just not the way it should be.
My mom’s health has taken a turn for the worse this year. The stress of losing my brother, watching the decline of my step-dad, and losing a lot of independence is taking its toll on her. I wish I could do something, but there’s nothing to be done. So I sit with her, do her laundry, clean her house, help her in little ways when I can.
But I’m tired. Lord, this season is too long. I don’t know if I can bear any more of it. I’m not wishing for it to go away…just relief. I want to have a day where I can remember what it’s like to be carefee again. I don’t remember what it’s like anymore to wake up without worry and fear.
I need to have the hope that there’s a bright side in all of this. That this situation is going to get better. That this heaviness in my heart will lift. I need to have one day where I don’t yell at my kids or cry from frustration.
Meanwhile…life goes on. There’s still laundry to be folded, dishes to be washed, dinner to be cooked, husband and children to love. I can’t fall apart because there are just too many people depending on me.