Jesus

Pumpkin Spice

Life is numb. I am numb. It is easier. At my sister’s wedding I gave a toast, unprepared, and I didn’t let myself reach below surface words and thoughts. I said, “you’re so good for each other” and “I am so happy.”  Underneath the surface it is too dark and emotional. So, I’ve found a way to stay above the surface and let everything roll off my head onto the floor. I am not condoning this as the best way to function but for me it is my only strategy at this moment. In our culture, death happens and then there is an allotted period of time to mourn and grieve. Typically it is about a year before you are supposed to function perfectly again. I am telling you that this is false. There are no stages and there is no time frame: grief is grief for as long as you live. I actually think that we should have grieving days just like sick days or vacation days. These would be the days that you get of bed and feel like turning around and getting right back in. These are the days that I think about kissing my Mom goodnight and our last real conversation. We both cried. I said, “Mom I don’t want to say goodnight because I am scared of what will happen tomorrow.” She cried back and said, “I will always be there. Every time you feel the wind blow through your hair that is me saying hello.”

The only anchor is this: The God of angel-armies is always on our side. He knows why and He urges us to wake up and show up to the battle that is life. Isn’t it strange? There are sweet moments and, for the lack of a better word, spicy moments. We need both to crack the beauty open in this world. Instead of being numb today I am going to try to feel.

I mean, as toddler teacher, there is so much to laugh about in a day. Earlier this week, I turned around after a five second cleaning spurt and noticed a two-year-old spreading poop across his shirt and onto the floor. It was every where. I couldn’t help but gasp and think “I knew this day would come.” There have been close calls and diapers checks gone wrong but nothing like this. I kept thinking about our book, “Duck Goes Potty” and there is a page where duck poops on the floor by accident. I have lived this moment. “The third time, duck misses. Quack.” Since my metaphor has fallen apart let’s toast to fall with our pumpkin spice beverages and open our hearts to all that is life. Let us approach each day like a toddler who is potty training: full of awe, will, and a lot of room for accidents, grace, and laughter.

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