My habit is to intellectualize. Most of my reactions start with “I think…”
This isn’t news to me, yet I was startled when someone whose opinion I value, pointed it out to me. Frankly, I’m startled that I can be seen so clearly. We believe in the invisible cloak around us, don’t we. Surely we aren’t that starkly evident to others, right? Oh, but we are…
Most of my mornings have always begun battling my habit. Because I’m aware of my cerebral tendencies to think through life, I have always used tools that will help my shift my view.
After my dad died, I quit writing. It took nearly four months for me to get back to it…journaling, writing my prayers, blogging with earphones in – listening to my music. Again, pointed out to me was something I couldn’t see…I could think through losing him, but feeling it was too hard. So, I laid aside the routines that spark my heart. Self-protection…
Self-protection is a lie. Can’t be done. Dads die, and then moms get cancer. The world is broken, and there are cracks everywhere.
This morning I realized that cracks allow some things to get through that wouldn’t if there were no breaks. My mom’s cancer is forcing me to face what I was trying to skirt. That it doesn’t matter how old we are when we lose our parents. Feelings of profound loss. Feeling like the ground beneath me is shaky. Feelings of camaraderie between sisters that was a lifetime of building…for these moments and so many others.
I am catapulted into a crack, where intellectualizing is helpful only in moments of information gathering or decision-making, yet useless when I look into the precious eyes of my mom. It’s light that comes through the crack. Illuminating, incredible Light.
Far more connecting happens when I let myself feel with her. How much we miss dad. How hard it is to face her illness and future. How much we want to trust God.
I’m willing. Willing to feel this, and willing to allow the experience at hand to change me. Willing to trust God for Restoration in its fullness…for both of us.
awestruckwonder 
I am willing too, Susie…but hold onto my hand my sweet sister, because I’m scared.