You know those days that you find yourself sitting at the kitchen table with High School Musical blaring in the next room drinking a beer glass full of Tang/ Grey Goose through a striped straw wondering what the hell happened to your quiet day? Well, that's where I am right now... add a messy pony tail, bright blue leggings I wouldn't be caught dead in out of the house and a big denim shirt and you have the idea of what the atmosphere is here!
I had a hard night. I kept dreaming that I packed CJ away in one of those boxes his belongings went into this week. A few times I even walked in there just to prove to myself he wasn't just waiting for me to find him. Dreams can be cruel. They give you a quick confused moment of believing a real tragedy was simply a small mistake. It must be my mind's way of protecting me from something so horrific it can't even relive it. Thinking of it that way makes me ALMOST thankful for these dreams.
Add on a couple of kiddos who needed some firm reminders of the very few chores they have by clipping their winds for the night, and the mood here was teetering of crashing when dh left for work. Yet things were quiet. I pulled out a project I have trying to complete for months while running a dozen loads of laundry.
Then it happened. In the blink of an eye the pup went into frantic/desperate barks at the back door that I have never heard from her before. Then the screaming. I didn't think I could still move that fast as I darted into the kitchen expecting to find yet another life altering disaster. What I found was a small opossum staring up at us from under the back door stoop. That sliding glass door could have been made of bullet proof glass and the screaming that ensued wouldn't have differed. Me and 2 teenage girls screaming at the top of our lungs over a rodent that looked like she has had better days. Of course my knee jerk reaction was to get dh on the phone, which just confused matters worse as he listened to screaming and hysterical laughing with none of us able to convey what the situation was for several moments.
Within the next few minutes, I manage to grab a camera to snap proof of the monster, send a text to a neighbor who sends over 2 more teens to "help", call Animal Control who inform me they only deal with cats/dogs/horses, and when all else fails placed a call to my favorite rescue president friend praying she would have the connection to get rid of this animal. All of these actions did nothing more but give everyone on the receiving end of my hysterics a chance to laugh at me. And I admit, I laughed along. A few hours later, I have resigned myself to the fact that she is still hanging out under the stoop, the poor dogs desperately have to pee, and tomorrow I will be driving to some rural location to purchase a live trap somewhere from a man in overalls and flannel.
This is my life now. Notice a simple dog barking has me convinced that something life altering was about to unfold before my eyes? That is how life unfolds for me every day. I used to blame it all on anxiety, but I'm learning that this sense of doom is so much more.
faltering faith.
diminished hope.
Ouch. Both values that I hold very close to my heart. Faith. Hope. The very aspects of my life that have kept me breathing through the hardest recovery period I pray I ever have to survive.
At my most faithful moments of my life, I have been able to put life in God's care. I had a very happy go lucky view that nothing TOO bad would ever happen to me. How could it? I gave my heart to Jesus, I believed in the Holy Trinity with all of my heart and knew my glory would be an afterlife with my Savior. Guess what? I was a fool. Faith is not the promise of protection. It is a promise of salvation at the end of this life. I am still struggling with that lesson, but the anger in my heart lessons every day. I can't comprehend why God took CJ from me, but I know he is holding him close.
I think hand in hand with my fairytale version of faith came an abundance of hope. A naïve form of hope that let me live day to day with such optimism that it would all work out. I viewed being hopeful has a way of wishing my will into existence. Well, God showed me the error in that one. I will always feel a bit of guilt that I may have ignored something that may have tipped me off. That there were signs, and although I told my doctors, I accepted their reassurance too easily. I had such hope in my heart for a beautiful baby boy in my arms, that the risks and reality of the situation were not really absorbed.
Oh, Christian. I hope with all my heart that you are looking down on me knowing how desperately I love you. If my guard was down and I missed the signs that you were in trouble, I pray you can forgive me. That is my burden to carry until the day I die...
So the kids have spent the evening home without the company of friends/boyfriends (except the 20 min the neighborhood was trying to get the monster out from under the porch.) as a "punishment" for lack luster chores/housework. My exhausted soul has allowed movies and laughter. I suck at grounding... My wine stock has been depleted as well as the pantry, hence the beer glass filled with powder tang/vodka. Tomorrow I need to put on pants and tackled grocery shopping. But until then, I'm going to refill my glass and try to find the humor in such a ridiculous day. Bright blue leggings and all...
#doitforcj
quick side note- holy crap!! over 4k blog views? I purposely try not to check those counts. I thought they meant very little to me. But over 4k?? thank you! please share anything you find may bring hope to a hurting mommy's soul. Or anyone that could just use to know they are not the only one struggling through this life. Let's get to tomorrow together. we WILL #doitforcj
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