… doing it just right.

godIt is the best feeling to hear your kids in their room, snuggled together, saying their prayers together. I grew up saying Grace, Our Father and Hail Mary. I remember one Church School teacher breaking down the ‘Our Father’ so we understood what every verse meant. I still remember it…

We grow, we change, we see, we hide, we make, we break… but those things we learn will always be the same. We pray… even if it doesn’t look like praying to some.

Tonight, was Church School, I had to find a lesson to teach even though it was cold and January… ugh. I thought about Lent- but Lent begins next month. I decided to focus on Baptism, Sin, Adam and Eve… Jesus’ big day in the Jordan. We talked about Adam and Eve, how amazing they had it. They were created in the Earth of no pain, no sickness, no death, no broken, no suffering… and no shame. They were created to live in a world of amazing, perfect… and beyond. Then came the breaking of the ONE rule… we now live in a world of rules… Adam and Eve broke the only rule. They gave into the lie… that they could ‘break the rule, enjoy the fruit, not worry, nothing would happen…’. That rule solidified the future of humans… sin was born in that choice.

So… we talked about baptism, sin and more. Then we played Charades because I did a terrible job timing my lesson. But then I came home…

I came home to crazy, normal… you know. The girls got ready for bed, Lucy pre-dressed for tomorrow (and even her brushed teeth without prompting) and Meme got ready to burrow. We watched some National Geographic and then it was time. It was time for reading- reading and bed. I sat on the couch in listening distance- and heard giggles, reading…. I reminded them to do their job quietly. I then heard “Our Father… who art in heaven…” and I smiled.

I was sitting, watching a silly, addicting show after my girls hit the hay… and hearing them Pray like crazy… and I felt grateful. I felt full. Some parents have to wonder… have to question their choices. They wonder if they are doing ‘it’ all right. I am not doing it all right, but I am doing some things right… and I think that is enough. I am working hard to make good people- down to the core. They are becoming what I always hoped for- exceptionally mediocre amazing people.

We watch too much TV in the winter, we rock out to a couple PG-13 movies, we sometimes eat crappy dinner, I sometimes wake up after the bus drives by… my girls fight, they fail, they can be great friends and little terds. I let the girls enjoy screen time so I could binge watch a show. I am guilty of failing, and they are as well.

… But look at what we did right.

On a random Thursday night with no prompting, no reminding they thanked God, and brushed their teeth. They regularly help plan Best Day Evers for other children who are sick, without wanting that special experience for themselves. They have days where all they can talk about is the cranky afternoon bus driver- then later they tell me about how they stood up for a friend when others picked on his autistic brother. They are exceptionally mediocre amazing girls… just as we hoped and worked so hard to create.

I have to be honest… I am not working to make an Olympian, a Prima Ballerina, a Brain Surgeon, a Major League Baseball Player. I am totally not the mom who pushes hard for my children to be crazy involved in extra stuff. I can’t. I don’t want to. I want to see what they have to offer, who they are becoming… I want them to have time to do NOTHING and something. I love to watch them play and perform, but I am working hard to build some exceptionally mediocre amazing and FAITHFUL girls. I believe that they will be just that- and I am grateful for the little nudge and moment to remember.

Thanks to my girls for the reminder that we are on track… Thanks to The Big Guy for always poking us when we need it.

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Just do better…

A new year, a new you… or maybe this you looks a hell of a lot like the lady who rang in the New Year. I have successfully written 2017 on far too many forms, notes and incident reports. I am a creature of habit… it will happen though, 2017 will disappear from my present notes and such soon, just in time for February. I know this year my hope for myself is to see myself better… to see improvement in my body, mind and soul. Sounds simple… we shall see.

My hope is to see the me that ends this year in a better light than I see the me that ended 2017. I don’t care to be skinnier- but I long to feel stronger. I don’t really need to be richer- but I hope to be more established and flexible with my time and income. I don’t long to be the best mom ever- but I strive to be more in the moment and less addicted to screens. I don’t need to run another marathon- but I will be a more determined version of me, a little more like that marathoner. I don’t plan to have future plans- but I am thinking that I will be more focused on a plan for the future (as much as He allows). Last but not at all least… I need to rekindle my connection to The Big Guy. I know Him, I love Him… but I feel like this 2018 me needs to find the road home to His comfort.

This past year brought a lot of hard stuff for me, so much that I procrastinated writing this because I didn’t want to go all ‘Negative Nancy’. I don’t even care that I turned 35, I think that is pretty cool- age is a privilege denied to many. After months and years of battling and ignoring a bum hip- I used to just joke that I must be a pure-bred lab, because I definitely have hip dysplasia… I found out through the grace of an MRI and great Doctor that I have pretty advanced hip arthritis and some lovely and cool bone cysts. I finally knew why I would be walking and my right hip would just not work. I was hoping for the simple answer to the scan- like we’ll operate, fix it and you’ll be good in 6 weeks. Instead we talked about management, in time treatments and a future bionic hip. I honestly slumped after that doctor’s appointment. It was not the news I hoped for…

But when is life exactly what you hope for…

After a really rough allergy season I developed asthma, and had some smallish asthma attacks. It was not.so.fun and has inflamed all of the upper respiratory issues I could have this winter. BOOM.

Everything I learned about being strong and getting strong was hard and high intensity… long runs, HIIT workouts, plyometrics… all the good stuff. All the stuff that inflames and hurts my body now, especially being heavier. This year I am just trying to be better, to make habits out of the new different way that I need to work out and get my eating habits back to the good ones. I want to just move forward and not be mad at my backward. That is my 2018 goal- to be better. I want to be better to this Erin and that Erin… I need to give her some props. She looks a lot like this 2018 Erin, and she made it through 2017. One more year of missing, one more year of moving forward. One more year of sorting and building better. One more year of getting to be almost 36- a gift that not everyone gets. I want to remind myself often in 2018- time is a gift, a gift not granted to all.

What if 2018 is laden with difficulties and challenges? I will work to do better and stay connected to what is important… so maybe I will have the scaffolding to handle it better. 2018 might look a lot like 2017 or 16… I might look like I do right now on December 31, 2018 and it will be good… I will love me more for being better. I will work to repeat to myself the ‘better’ that I am working for and the ‘better’ that I become. I have got this… I made it this far…

I keep coming back to this letter, this letter of a 27 year old woman. She spoke with perspective so many lack… her time was ending- not by choice. She had amazing perspective on what matters… and I think if I just try to do better I will be doing well with my time. If you haven’t read- DO. Holly loved life, but knew what she wished she did more of some pretty simple things. So… maybe your 2018 should be doable and livable… just do better.

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Just do better, it feels doable, you know?

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She gifted a giggle…

It’s Christmas time. December moved fast, as it always does. It is like we blink the day after Thanksgiving;  all of the sudden it is Christmas Eve. I feel like it moves faster now that the girls are older and our time is shared. I have a love/hate, easy/hard relationship with Christmas. It was fun this year to teach Faith Formation to 3rd graders… to talk about Mary and her bravery and faith. We did a little Live Nativity play and it was fun (and crazy). I missed a lot of Mass and honestly feel a pull to come home to Mass… to pull that peace into my week. I miss it.

This December I didn’t take time to feel Madeline like I normally do. We missed caroling at her spot, I missed seeing her friends… but she’s here. Time is just different. Christmas came fast…

Rick and I went up to Lake Placid, our little tradition for Christmas. Instead of buying big gifts we go on an adventure, but not a crazy adventure. We go somewhere we can do NOTHING. The gift for us is a buncha nothing. We wander or not, we watch movies or not. Whatever. The gift is nothing, and everything. Life is busy and hard and full… we let all of that go and just be there.

Lake Placid was a hard place to get to on Friday, but we made it through the snow and rain. We landed and looked out the window to the best.view.ever. The trees and lake were coated in snow, resembling a postcard. We woke up and the scene was fluffier and calmer than the night before. I got a little brazen that afternoon, I challenged myself to go outside barefoot and run in the snow. I stepped out and thought about laying in the fresh, fluffy whit snow and making a snow angel- in my bare feet with no coat. I chickened the hell out… but I remembered.

One time I didn’t chicken out…

Madeline was diagnosed February 3, 2012 with DIPG, Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma. Only weeks after Christmas of 2011, a special Christmas for us. Moments after being diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor our family was working to enjoy the time we had together. My brother secured a perfect log cabin in Lake Placid and our families headed up north for some time together. In Lake Placid we laughed, we ate, we painted, we adventured- we all felt the sad next to the glad. The cabin was amazing, bedrooms and bathrooms for all… a kitchen that spoiled us and a hot tub on the deck for us to turn on and float away in. So we did…

This weekend I remembered a gift.

While in the hot tub, I can still see Matthew holding Madeline, guarding her from any danger he could. I said “Dare me to make a snow angel?” and I hopped out of the hot tub ran across the snow covered deck, down the stairs and plopped into the snow- in my purple bathing suit. I made some markings (ish) and ran back up to the deck and into the hot tub… She regifted me her giggle this weekend.

I stood in Lake Placid barefoot in the snow on this very weekend, and heard one of her last giggles. She brought me back to that moment and let me feel it and hear it. It was a perfect little gift in Lake Placid, a place that deserved many more Madeline smiles and giggles…

Traditionally the girls get an ornament every year, generally a Hallmark ornament, but I couldn’t find any I loved. The giggle I was gifted changed the gift for the girls and Madeline. Under our tree there is only one gift for Madeline- one gift for my 11 year old. I usually find a special angel or cardinal ornament- but this year I found a perfect ornament for her in Lake Placid. Madeline’s gift was an ornament painted with a cabin in Lake Placid- the place that holds her last Earth giggle. My gift in response to her gift…

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Christmas this year was quiet and bright- maybe due to all of the snow reflecting the sun outside. I loved it, just right. We opened presents slowly… Santa was good to my girls. Meme knows that Santa doesn’t deliver- but I reminded her of the magic, the fact that some people helped quietly make the day special and a couple things were IMPOSSIBLE to find (so it must have been Christmas spirit). Santa is alive and well, different than we always see but true to what he is.

Christmas is light, in a dark time of year. I know it hard for so many but be kind to life… life is hard, always has been- always will be. I miss my Lovely… but life is still so brutiful. There are gifts in the dark… giggles to give.

Merry, Merry Christmas to all… and Happiest Birthday to Jesus…

Dear Santa,

How are you? I hope your year was wonderful and you rested up for your big trip around the world. I have been working really hard to make good choices and be a good sister. I am hoping you have some special things for me to open on Christmas day.

Love,

Pretty much every child in the world.

 

‘Dear Santa’ letters are full of wishes and hopes and light and childhood excitement. I loved writing them growing up, I loved returning fancy Santa letters for my little cousins and now my children. Santa’s spirit is kindness and light and love and faith. All written and answered with love and hopes of magic.

What about if your child’s Santa letter were more like this…

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Why? How can this be okay? Childhood wishes for cures, for healing, for no more pain… not for LOL Dolls and video games… just healing. I am so unbelievably proud of her words, of her bravery to share and her compassion for her sister. Cancer didn’t just hurt her sister… it heart Libby too. Her wish… is a real, concrete wish for change- one that most kids don’t have to worry about. I am proud she has that compassion and empathy- but I am sad she has to.

Last night Rick and I were gifted some seats to Melodies of Christmas, a beautiful concert at the most lovely theater to help our Children’s Cancer Center at Albany Med. I watched the show with a big smile on my face- listening to songs sung by an amazing choir, people watching the families there. There were dancers and great MC’s. They shared stories of hope and faith and the children that have changed and built them. It was wonderful. I ran into my Best Day Ever kids, and their families. It really was a great show.

Then came the Melodies Kids, in their little tux’s and fancy dresses. Some kids in wheelchairs, some in remission for a long time, some still fighting and struggling- all forever impacted by their journey. All… write letters to Santa wishing for things most children never have to think about. Those children and the whole theater broke into ‘Silent Night’… the entire song. I stood and wanted to participate. I wanted to stand there and just feel the hope, like the family next to me. They belted it out and I could feel it from them… but it was different for me. I couldn’t feel that light, instead that moment let out all of my broken and confused and hurting. I stood next to Rick and all of my pain snuck out onto my cheeks. I know he felt it to. I searched for an open exit to sneak out before anyone I knew found me like this. I hate feeling so raw in front of a group of people, it is like standing naked. I sobbed right there in Row W.

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What I felt was… it was very clear to me. I felt such a sadness that Madeline didn’t get a chance to be a Melodies Kid. She didn’t get a chance to stand up there and belt out ‘Silent Night’ with her Cancer Family. She got 5 days. The thing is… even if she had a different journey buy the time Christmas came in 2012- she would not have been able to perform, swallow well or stand for long. DIPG is a monster, all cancer is, but DIPG is THE BEAST. There were no kids on stage with DIPG. I turned to Rick and said isn’t it sad that there are no DIPG kids up there- not because there aren’t many all over the place- but because their cancer steals all that away too soon. Too soon they head to heaven, too soon they have to leave us here on this journey to Christmas and move on alone. I felt proud and glad for those kiddos up there on stage- just sadness that mine isn’t there.

Christmas is hard… it is all hard. Seeing wishes from children for a cure and for no pain for a sibling is hard. Seeing children shop in a hospital for Christmas gifts because that is where they mostly are and they can’t be in germy worlds- is hard, joyful but hard. Watching children on stage who have been to hell and back sing to the most solemn and serious Christmas song was breathtaking and felt like a nail in my heart. It.should.not.be.this.way.

Christmas without always hurts, always stings. I am never fully without- but a part of me left for heaven almost 6 years ago. I try my darndest to celebrate her along with feeling the pain… sometimes though I just feel the pain. Grief is a journey that I love and hate.

Today I just sat in it, I feel surface happy. I have work to do to be ready for the magic on next Monday. I want to be sure they feel Jesus, Santa and our Madeline that day. I feel the rest today though… I feel a tinge of jealousy, a bit of broken and some solid sadness- but I feel proud, loved, surrounded and as light as I can be.

I hate cancer. I hate it with so much of my soul. I work to change in any way I can- but mostly I work to support those who have this Childhood Cancer Shit dealt into their lives. I think God sees my job in the support- and others in the research. Today a child, a teen, with DIPG will have a Best Day Ever ‘Last Jedi’ style… just like Libby wrote that letter, his gratefulness is not lost on my heart. He is grateful he made it to see the ‘Last Jedi’… I am grateful and sad he knows that this is his last Start Wars adventure- He and Star Wars story’s have endings. He chooses to love his life, we should too. We should rock the life we have, the time we get. We never know…

I am going to take that letter to Santa, that moment during ‘Silent Night’ and feel it all. Feel the sad, the glad, the mad, the light, the dark, the grief, the love… all of it. I challenge you to do just that… to carry these tokens with you. Someday maybe there will be no sick children to sing… someday maybe the Melodies of Christmas will just be a night of Christmas music. I pray for that… I pray for Madeline to come bug me… to show up in a dream and to remind me of her presence this year. To let me feel her while we unwrap and celebrate the Christmas Spirit…

This Christmas… is hard.

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Christmas time is hard, like very hard. While it seems to me that others holidays are happy and filling and fun and easy- mine don’t feel that way. I have to work too hard, too often to enjoy myself and really be present in adventures. It seems silly to me that what was once easy, is now work. I often wonder which piece of missing am I feeling- is the missing child or the tiny family, is it living so far away from my family or wishing I could enjoy the traditions of when I grew up? I don’t really know…

It is hard to tread on these lines of grief, to know which line is which- or where a particular missing is coming from. Is it nostalgia, is it recognition of a missing human, is it missing what I thought my life would look like? I imagined for myself to be successful in a career, to stay married, to make many children… so that when my marriage was 50 years old we would be surrounded by grandkids. I am so far from so much of that… but it is good. Just because something is good right now, doesn’t mean we can’t miss a past chunk of life.

I really miss Madeline. I imagine her turning 11, and seeing her be who she was never able to be. I imagine that 11 year old girls like different gifts- but maybe, just maybe she would still like baby dolls like I did. I wish she were here to model her character to other children and be the big sister my girls deserve. I wish she were here to share in our adventures, I would still have my set of 3 to keep me busy. I even imagine this divorce would have been easier if I didn’t have to miss her, like if she were here my heart would be so much more healed and not scarred. It is so hard…

I have yet to buy the Hallmark ornaments I always get the girls, I need to. Something in me doesn’t want to get them this year… maybe a mechanism to wipe my brain’s slate clean for now. I don’t really understand it myself. I looked in 2 stores and saw nothing that shouted Amelia or Lucy- and their angels sucked. It is just so hard…

Christmas is hard, and this holiday season feels dark and exhausting. I wish the sun stayed up longer. I hate the dark. We burrow in this weather, some might think we are lazy, but it is our time. I feel that the burrowing, is a kind of like hibernation, it’s conserves our energy for when the light comes back. You know where to find us Musto Chicks from about 7pm on… burrowed under our snuggly blankets watching a Christmas movie or The Good Doctor. We are putting our energy on reserve for a time when there is light and spring. It is our way, or maybe it is my way- but those chicks follow suite.

I have shopped, mostly online, since I have had my girls A LOT the past few weeks. I tried to sneak some things at Target and failed… so Amazon it is. I miss when it was fun to shop, to look through flyers and spend a few days shopping. This year the couple times I had to run somewhere, I felt like I was on the edge of panic attack. I don’t enjoy being out in big groups of crazy shoppers… they are so annoying and rude (and I am old). It is hard…

There was an accident with our tree- and that lovely evergreen took a dive to the floor. There were ornaments and tree water everywhere… it was not a fun night. The tree is now permanently lopsided- and the ornaments aren’t where we put them and the pearls are all screwed up. Every time I look at the tree I feel some sad- not the normal at all. I usually find the humor in accidents but a bit of me just isn’t loving my tree anymore. I tell myself to let it go and enjoy this season and the light it brings into our room, but my heart is annoying me this year. It will.not.listen.

Christmas is hard- but I am trying. I am trying to see and build light where it is dark. I am trying to find humor in the broken. I am trying to remind myself that in all that is missing there is love- that it isn’t totally missing. I am trying to keep my chin up and just do my job- so that my girls have magic. I am trying, but it is hard. I thought now I would be used to it…

Christmas is hard, but I am thankful. Thankful for the 2 girls who chase me around listen to all my conversations, for the family that is waiting to celebrate with us when we go home, for this life and the friends I have… for the comfort we have here at the Musto Estate… and for my Great Angel who listens to me when I am most broken. I am grateful… yet I hurt. So is the world… broken next to healed, pain alongside joy and confusion standing with clarity… life integrated with grief.

… But I wasn’t ready

This week I had to have the talk. I didn’t want to have the talk, I tried to avoid the talk. I remember the day that I had the equivalent of the talk… it wasn’t a good day. I still feel sad about it. The talk robbed much of the magic and wonder… it stole a bit of my naïve. I imagined that the talk would be further into the future- somewhere around 13. I guess I was naïve…

My daughter came home with that grumble in her soul, that stress that comes when she has something bugging her. I wait it out, knowing that she will come to me when she is ready. She hinted a bit about the kids in her class and a poll and how she was one of the few that answered how she did. We dropped Lucy off to basketball and it came out. “Mom is Santa real?”… “Of course, I believe in Christmas spirit and Saint Nick and magic.”… again and again “Mom BUT is he real????????”

She stated that many of the kids in her class don’t believe, they said Santa isn’t real. I told her that they really suck the magic out of something special- and for the rest of your life people will do that, choose to know what you know. She insisted on knowing that truth, which makes me believe she had already made her decision. I was driving and really wanted to cry… thankfully it was dark. I realized this was the talk and I wanted to do it right. Only it had to happen right now- before her sister was done shooting hoops.

So…

I shared the big secret. I told her that I buy and wrap presents and put them under the tree. I am the Santa that gifts her Jesus’ birthday presents. Santa is real. Saint Nicholas is real, he has a special role in history just like Jesus. Santa and Saint Nicholas are more present in spirit during this time of year. Look at people this time of year, dear. People want to take care of others, people spoil poor children, they volunteer to cook at the City Mission, people take care of their neighbors. Lovely, that is all bits of Santa and the spirit of Christmas. I laughed and tried to break any awkward with a little sarcasm “Wouldn’t it be nice is the other 11 months people thought of Santa and Christmas???”… She agreed.

I reminded her that I believe in Santa. I might buy and wrap and spoil her, but there is a North Pole and helpers and magic. I told her just like Madeline isn’t physically sitting with us at the Christmas Tree- she is there. There is no body sitting and enjoying with us, but we can feel her spirit. She is here, just not how we imagined it would be. Santa is here, just not as she imagined he is. She kept repeating to me “Mom… I believe in Santa, I do.” I felt sad that she had to remind herself, reassure herself. I asked her is she was sad, she told me yes. I know that feeling. I didn’t feel mad that I had been lied to, I felt like the surprise and magic were stolen. I imagine that is what my daughter felt…

We made it to 10 years old… obviously Madeline has known for a while so I guess It was earlier. I told my girl the rule- that she knows a secret and she is not to share it with others. It isn’t an unsafe secret, but if she respects this it will be a grown up bit of knowledge that doesn’t break others ideas and beliefs. I told her she is to respect others, including her sister. I told her respecting others and her sister and the magic is VERY important and she needs to do it to be more mature. She promised she would honor that expectation… but a piece of me broke off that night.

The thing is, why don’t all parents encourage their kids to honor other families and other traditions? Why do other parents not remind their child that this is an honored secret? That when you are gifted the talk and you get to move the elf or know that Santa isn’t real- we honor the other kids. Instead of pushing our kids to be older, we can embrace that childhood magic, that spirit. For my own heart and the hearts of many other moms, let’s try to do this better. I felt like my daughter was cornered into believing in not believing. I saw it. Let’s try to do this in a building way, not a breaking. I know I would love to see it.

As hard and sad as it was, it reminds me to be lucky. I have 3 lovely girls, 2 of which keep growing and maturing and becoming. Madeline is and will forever be 5 ½… she travels with us in spirit. I am lucky, well except with Lottery Tickets. I have a good life, I have good words, and I have the best freakin’ girls ever. I look ahead with excitement and fear- I look back with contentment and love. I will forever love and cherish the time that I was a Secret Santa and delivered Jesus’ birthday presents under the surname of Santa Claus. I will forever miss the piece of naïve I took from my daughter on that drive… and I will never get to take back those years of being ‘Santa’ in the way I was. I will try and work to be the mom and me that is needed right now, and in 5 minutes and again in days. I wish… but I can’t change.

Welcome new world, lacking some of what once was…

… the sound of silence

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Silence is hard. It is hard to maintain, hard to feel comfortable and hard tackle all those things that need silence to process. Silence wasn’t always hard, or maybe I never let myself ‘stay’ in the silence. I still avoid it… all of these years later and I know what the silence holds.

I worry and think other moms who have to sit in the silence. Recently I have thought a lot about Christine, Devin’s mom, and how important and impossible the silence is. How hard it is to come by in those years in the beginning when we are driven to create and honor. The silence comes… it always does. I teeter on warning other moms or is it better for them to find and sit in their silence.

The silence hurts. Avoidance does a good job of keeping the pain away for a time, but silence just like grief will always catch up. It will be right there ready for you to ‘sit’ in it and feel all the things that are waiting for you to tackle.

One afternoon recently I was really tired and sore after work, so I took a bath. I filled up the tub, grabbed a towel and put Pandora on my speaker. I got into the tub and finally I felt warm, right about that moment I realized that I left my book and cell phone on the counter in the bathroom. I could see them but I wasn’t going grab them, I shrugged to myself and told myself I would just be present instead of reading away. I sunk my head into the water and just listened… I love how you can hear your heart so well under water. My mind wandered, and I started to think about and worry about a mom who just lost her son, and her silence. I brought my head up out of the water and enjoyed the music. Mumford and Sons Pandora is pretty great for the soul. Taking a bath with music, just enough noise to not feel too much.

The music stopped.

I looked at my phone on the counter, and knew I wasn’t going to grab it to fix it. I just sat there and realized I was just thrown into the silence…

It was like God was telling me “You worry about others, but you still rarely visit the silence… Here it is”. I sat there and told myself that my job right now is to sit in the silence…

I sat…

I stayed in the silence.

The music started, right where it left off. It was as if God paused my Pandora to remind me of the importance of that silence.

In the silence I feel the things I can’t feel in this loud world. I feel the missing… not the surface missing I feel when I am busy living and moving forward. In the silence I can feel the pain of those 6th graders doing all that she should be, the hurt I feel knowing that once again Madeline will only get one gift for Christmas… the hurt of missing her. In the silence is the sorting through the pain… that big pile of pain. When I am in the silence I see how much sorting I have to do… how much pain needs to be touched and felt.

I think of other moms, and some are probably so much better than me at sitting and working in their silence. It is something I must work on. I still worry and wonder and feel for those moms… for I know. I know the silence, the pain. I know how this goes, at least 5 years in.

I need to make room for more silence… and make more room for sorting. I was reminded of this, maybe He gave me a clear sign. I still hurt and worry for those other mommas… and I feel for their work in the silence. Grief is beautiful and ugly. Time is beautiful and ugly. Life is beautiful and ugly.

So I sit more in the silence…