I haven’t posted in weeks and I’m humbled that so many of you noticed my absence and checked in with me. I’m grateful for your prayers and so many sweet contacts. I’m overwhelmed at your grace and love for us since Mom’s journey began last November. It’s been a month since she passed, and we’re all adjusting to our new normal. The “grief fog” slowly lifts, and for your prayers — THANK YOU.

Losing a parent is hard.

The reality that the person who brought you into this world, who nurtured you, who helped you chart your course through life and who trained you up in the way you should go is GONE.

Christmas 1967ish

Christmas 1967ish

There is so very much to process. The programmer in me can’t help but compare it to the operating system of my iPhone: it’s as if a dozen apps suddenly launched and started running in the background, all of them vying for their time in the foreground.

So many thoughts **pop up

**Help Dad with loose ends. I wonder how he’s doing today, what’s going through HIS mind right now. I wonder if I’m doing enough for him? He’s fiercely independent but enjoys having us around. He’s learning to ask for help. 

**Did we do enough for Mom? Yes, of course we did!  We did everything we could for Mom, but it was hard to explain it to her and we’re not sure she understood.

**Will we go down a similar difficult path with Dad? God only knows.

Drum Major**Mom at her sewing machine. I hear the hum of the motor and see her guiding fabric beneath the needle. Mom was an expert seamstress with an eye for detail. Nothing ever fit me right, so she spent HOURS of taking measurements and cutting fabrics and stitching together clothes and uniforms that fit my scrawny teenaged frame. I know I thanked her then, but I was sassy and selfish and I expected her to do things for me. All teenagers do. Now that I’m a mom, I appreciate it more than I can say.

We talked about that once and we laughed, but I wish I’d told her more often.

**Don’t leave things unsaid. My own sassy kids pop into my mind, and I want them to know so many things. I feel like I talk their ears off sometimes (they agree), but I don’t want to leave things unsaid. I want them to know –

  • I love them and my life is RICH because of them.
  • I’ve tried my best to help them chart good courses for their lives, but it’s ultimately their responsibility.
  • I don’t want them to watch me suffer with health issues, but I can’t control that.
  • I hope they never have to make hard decisions for me, but I trust them to make good ones when the time comes.

Because my time will come. Just as I want to be faithful in life, I want to be faithful in death. I want to be faithful in affliction.

**I want to be faithful in whatever, and I have no idea what kind of whatevers are ahead.

I’m not worried; I’m just wondering. Mental wandering. Grief leads you down lonely paths of your soul, and there is so much to process.

We all know processing multiple apps causes your phone battery to drain, and the same applies to processing multiple emotions: they cause your physical battery to drain. So I continue to lay low, but I can testify to this truth:

ps 46-1

I’d be honored to hear from you here in the comments or in this click-to-tweet:

I want to be faithful in whatever, but only God knows the whatevers that are ahead.

Just so you know, I pray for each of my commenters as I read your remarks. Some of you have even secured a spot in my prayer journal! I’m blessed and grateful for your kind words.

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