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.”
Amen
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