|My footprints. My new direction.|
THE LULU CHRONICLES
Once again I have been remiss in my blogging duties. At this stage of my life, things keep getting away from me, little things like hours, days and even months. Is it just me or does time speed up as we age? Like before age 50 you’re struggling to climb up a mountain, after 50 you loose your footing and start sliding quickly down the other side over boulders and thorns and all things sharp.
My mourning journey is now one year and one month down the road. I can already tell the second year is going to be just as hard, but in a different way. The first year was all about survival. Breathe in and out. One foot in front of the other. Change out of your PJs. Life was accomplished in very small chunks. Year two, it seems is about decisions, questions that will not relent until they are answered.
What now? These words follow me around like a shadow. They are prickly, haunting at times and seem about twelve feet tall. Gary and I lived our lives on the move. We were doers. We were out there amongst the masses, hopefully making a difference, hopefully pleasing God. These days I find myself longing for the sidelines and being at ‘one’ with the wallpaper. Quiet rooms are havens. My world is full with just the dog, and me and sometimes the dog isn’t all that welcomed. I want to shake this cocooning phase, but I find myself just wanting to burrow myself in deeper. Surely this will pass, won’t it?
In the last few days I have been able to make some big decisions. I am selling my house and now I know that I am moving to another city to be close to one set of grandbabies. Their parents either feel like they’ve won the lottery or gotten the short end of the straw. Only time will tell. But thankfully, I was welcomed by all sons and their families ( right, Nathan?) and had a hard decision to make. I have chosen and the thought of receiving daily hugs from a grandchild or two (or four) is more longed for than air or water. I am at peace with this decision.
A new house, a new town, a new church, and some new friends. However, dear old friends, please don’t erase me from your address book. I still need you. I will always need you. We raised our children together and built a church together. We are bonded at the heart and nothing will ever change that.
New. Different. Change. Those words have elected presidents. Yeah, I know, it’s not always worked out. But, I guess it’s up to me to see that it does in my life, my new life. Keep praying for me, please. My legs are shaky and the yearning to sit crossed-leg in the back of a dark closet is strong. Your help will always be welcomed.
“Beloved Father, hold me close and don’t let go. Strengthen my grip so I won’t either. Heal our broken hearts. Make us stronger, kinder, more loving, more vulnerable, humble and resolved. Teach us how to do all of the above without too much sorrow. We thank You for Your faithfulness. We thank You for new beginnings. We thank You for the thumps we receive from the Spirit. Without them we would be completely clueless. We love You. We love Your Son.”