Be Present

Most of my mornings start out exactly the same. I wake up a few minutes before the alarm at 0545. I determine how many minutes I need to get ready so I can leave for work on time, because staying in my nice warm bed is WAY better than getting out of it at o'dark forty-five. Eventually, being a grown-up takes over, and I usually make it to work with time to spare.

At some point in the morning's routine, I check Facebook to see what I might have missed. Since I don't drink coffee, it's the equivalent of my morning wake-up. One day last week, that didn't go so well for me. The very first thing I paid attention to in my newsfeed, involved a friend whose mother-in-law is dying. His post was simple. "Morning report from Doc is she is going downhill. Pray for God to provide strength, comfort, and guidance for our family through these difficult days." Every single emotion I felt when my mom was in hospice hit me like a ton of bricks. My eyes filled with tears. I was completely powerless to stop them. I was caught off-guard, and my "awesome" leaked out from the corners of each eye.

The thing I have come to understand about grief is that it is a process. There is an ebb and flow. After the initial shock wears off, it cycles. I've also learned that grief about a particular event in life, isn't isolated from every other event that may come up. I am an emotional person by nature, which is odd to me since neither of my parents were/are particularly emotional. Being emotional can be quite overwhelming when you aren't prepared for it. I have spent the better part of the past few years in a state of flux. Life happens, and then when you're dealing with one thing, something else comes out of left field and kicks you when you're down.

I joke sometimes that there is a little black cloud following me around since September 2001. In reality, I know that isn't the case, although some days it certainly feels like it. I have to remind myself on those days when I can't see the positives in a certain situation, that every situation is working on who I will be tomorrow, or next year, or ten years down the road. Every tear, every joy, every heartache, every struggle, every celebration is preparing me for the future. How I choose to deal with those situations is building my character. I didn't just reach adulthood and stop growing. I am constantly being challenged and molded and shaped into the person I will be when I'm a grown up.

For now, I find solace in that fact. I remind myself daily that I can't control my past or my future, only the way I act in the present. I am not done with grief, nor am I done with figuring out how to live the life I desire.  I'm a work in progress, and I sometimes feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark.  In the midst of awesome  leakage mornings, and realizations about the way I want to be remembered 20 years from now, I'm learning valuable lessons about the fragile balance of life. Lessons about patience, trust, hope, love, and grace.  I'm not perfect, but I'm trying to be better than I was yesterday.

~s