i think my house might blow away. or a tree may crash through the roof. the woods next door sing. it is the eerie singing i imagine jane eyre heard across the moors and dales. my house isn’t really going to fly away like dorothy’s but my head is drowning. the past week my ears have been held prisoner and i feel i am under murky water. not able to hear or balance. not able to stop the constant need of tissue. i fear through all the nose blowing i may sneeze myself inside out just like calvin.
while i seemingly stand still – several friends had babies in january. their babies, inadvertent reminders of my not having a baby, and babies continue to come and will inevitably bring more reminders. conversations remind me. reminders can be in the littlest most insignificant things. it is a delicate balance between feeling okay with my grief all while not being overly sensitive to others.
i am searching for that balance.
i am re-learning my faith.
we are taught it is better to look up. that despite challenges we must seek out the abundant life. we know there will be waiting in this life but we’re asked to be courageous (psalms 27:14). to trust in the lord (proverbs 3:5). to be still (psalms 46:10). to not fear (isaiah 41:10). ultimately we know it is christ before whom we lay our weakness and through him we are strengthened (ether 12:27).
i believe all this, and yet, i struggle right now to find its immediate application.
i feel we often present a photo-shopped version of ourselves. we are not open. we are not honest. once my friend and i discussed what it would be like if our friends really shared what demons they are fighting. it seems we would find comfort. we’d enjoy a closer fellowship. it would be easier to help one another bare those burdens (mosiah 18:8-10).
i think at the moments we feel most alone, we’d find we are not. others have fought our fight or walked our path.