The Process

These last few weeks have been spent in a myriad of conventional and unconventional ways.

There’s been talk of despair and if there is any validity to hope in the land of the living.

There’s been chocolate covered almonds with sea salt and Pauly Shore movies.  (Save Bio Dome- I refuse to acknowledge that it even existed.) I have said it before and I will, unashamedly say it again, Pauly Shore is integral to the grieving process.

There’s been impromptu, four day long sleepovers at my in-laws due to circumstances outside of our control.

There’s been much purging and sorting, deciding what gives joy and what has served it’s time.  (Thanks, Kon-mari. )

There’s been cassoulet simmering, apple muffins baking, and crying in the shower.

There’s been shouts of thankfulness over jobs-then, wait! No job.  Then, yes! A job again. Two, in fact. There’s been much stressing over schedules and childcare and schools and putting houses on markets and talks of kindergarten and wondering where we belong.

There’s been play doh all over my dining room floor, little pink hats covered in snow and the writing of a little someone’s name all by herself, for the first time.

There have been test results that yielded good and bad results. There was rejoicing and sorrow all over again.

There has been prayer covering for my terrible nightmares- the ones I’ve had since childhood that seem to have gained strength the last month.  And there has been deep and dreamless sleep more often because of the warriors combating them.

There have been angels and demons and if they are real talk, and if they are, why don’t we ever talk about them? Or, to them?

There have been great pauses, where time stops and snow falls and we wonder what it all means and if it means anything at all.

There’s been a shifting- a re-prioritizing of time.  A renouncing- of how we lived before, of how we allowed ourselves to believe that there is nothing good left in God, for us. That He had poured it out for us to deliver to others, and let the bread pass over our hungry mouths. There’s been an awareness- of what the term self-care means, what it actually looks like, and why it’s imperative.

There’s been a discipline of learning- of repeating-of instructing.

There’s been too much Gilmore Girls and lavender baths and good, strong coffee.  Or not.

There’s been a preparing, a waiting, a grieving, a gathering, a lifting, a longing.

We are ready to move on today.

We’re not sure we’ll be ready tomorrow.

I think, that’s how it goes.

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