Weeds

I don't know if it's possible to be in a really hard place, while also in a good place?

I haven't written in a while for this reason. I am not quite sure what to say, how to say it, or even if I really want to. In the midst of feeling pressed from all sides, I have moments of so much hope, joy, and a longing to move forward, taking steps of faith. To the next chapter in the story.

It's almost as if I'm like a weed that gets pulled, yet continues to somehow find it's roots planted deep beneath the surface once again. Holding on hard and not willing to be pulled loose. At least not completely loose. I imagine Christ is the gardner. Lovingly tending my soil, grasping at the roots to pull me free. Some days it takes more force than others to pull the roots above the surface. Some days there's a piece of my root that just refuses to break free. And some days there is a piece of the root that completely breaks off under the pressure and a piece of me is left deep beneath the ground...only to rear it's head again. I'm pretty certain that I am pesky, persistent, strong, and stubborn...just like a weed and it's extensive root system.

All I can say is that I am in a rough spot of knowing there are parts of me (of who I once was) that are in conflict with who I need to be now. Likewise, there are parts of who I once was that will forever be a part of who I am now and who I will be in the future. Even some of the deepest pain has yielded a beautiful piece of my story that I don't ever want to forget. A part I feel certain God intends for me to carry forward. There is just a tension between once being a wife and now being a widow, that I still struggle to reconcile. 

I am lonely in a way that words cannot describe. I find myself still longing to talk and share things with Bunky...only to realize, like a hard slap in the face...he is NOT here! I am weary. Weary with life. Weary with parenting. Worn down, but not always able to articulate how or why. I miss my other half. After the shock wore off (months after his death), I realized the finality of this all. Somehow though, it is only lately that the true concreteness of an end point of what has happened and what will NOT ever be, is more real than ever. It carries a sharp and sometimes very unexpected pain with it.

Nighttime is hard with the boys. They miss their dad. Pictures are drawn. Tears fall. Fears of me dying are real to them and are brought up often. We pray. We talk honestly. I hug them, but never assure them of the future. Because their harsh reality at a young age, reminds us that there is no assurance of anything. Anything, except our HOPE in Christ and Eternity, because of the sacrifice He made for us. The picture below was taken just before I left to go away for a few days on a girl's beach trip. Cooper told me all week that he thought I would have a heart attack and die before I got back from Florida. He cried about it every night for a week before I left. This is the stuff that tears my mama's heart out! It was really hard to leave them, but I know it is healthy and good for them and for me when I take care of myself.

I'm just struggling to navigate through my journey with grief right now. Just when I felt JOY on the horizon, memories that caused PTSD after Bunky's death, have rushed in to try and paralyze me. My sleep is being impacted again. My memory and ability to focus is fuzzy at best. I am still functional. I just want to be MORE than functional. I want to truly taste what God is calling me to. I want that new flower, so to speak, to grow without being hindered by the weeds.

I have no doubt the pumpkin patch and holidays stir a lot of this up. I just pray that peace transcends fear. I pray that whatever pieces of me that need to stay deeply rooted in the ground will stay and the rest of me can yield to the gentle pulling and pruning to produce something beautiful. Something that is part of God's greater plan for my life. I pray for clear direction and that I will have faith to take those steps God guides me to in the coming chapters of my story.  I know He is working on me and in me and that is good. Really good! Even in the midst of the hard.

I'm thankful for those who haven't forgotten and take the time to let us know they remember. I'm humbled by those who continue to walk with us and pray for us. I recognize that almost 2 1/2 years has passed since Bunky's death, and most probably assume we have moved on. In ways we have moved forward, as we should. In so many other ways, we are still trying to figure out how to do that. So, if you are reading this...thank you. And if God lays our family on your heart, we would be grateful for your continued prayers, especially during the holidays.