Most days I am fine.
Most days I am not even aware of it.
But some days, some days it sneaks up on me.
I will be going about my day when all of a sudden I am nearly knocked over.
By grief.
There are moments when I am frozen by it. And it seems to just cover me like a heavy blanket.
It brings me back to my little 10 year old self standing in that hospital room.
It brings me back to all the years without her.
I miss her.
I miss her more than I can possibly explain.
Yesterday I had one of those moments.
Chris and I were watching Joannie Rochette skate and I could barely breath. I watched as she dug into the very depth of herself to skate for her mom. I watched as she represented Canada and won a medal for our country. But more than all that I watched her face after it was all over. The mix of joy and grief.
I have worn that face.
I wore it on my wedding day as I got dressed in my wedding gown.
I wore it on the days each of my children were born as I held them all bundled up only minutes old.
I wear it every mother’s day.
And there are surprising moments when I wear it. When I am so happy about something and then all of a sudden something reminds me of her.
Joy and grief woven together.
This afternoon as I sat in the doorway of my daughters room (she needs “encouragement” to go down for her nap) grief struck again. I was reading the book “So Long Insecurity” and got to the chapter that deals with the roots of insecurity. Here’s what I read:
“If you lost a parent to cancer when you were a child, girlfriend, your search for the root of your chronic insecurity is over. You earned it. No, you can’t have your loved one back in this lifetime, but you can indeed have your security back. That loss does not have to be permanent.”
So Long Insecurity
by Beth Moore
And I lost it. The tears came easily and I was once again reminded that I am a part of that group. My insecurity is easily identified because I am a child who’s mom died of cancer.
I hate that. I HATE IT. I hate that I can easily identify the source. Easily fit into this category.
Now, I realize that my heart is a little raw from last night, and in all honesty I can also see that God is preparing my heart. In His beautiful way He is making it abundantly clear that He wants me to say so long to my insecurity just as much as I do.
But as I walk through this process I just want to tuck tail and get outta here. This painful, facing of life. This conscious realization that maybe I haven’t fully healed from losing my mom. Maybe the roots of my insecurity still need to be cut. Maybe I need to allow God into parts of my heart that I thought I already had….
I want to give it ALL to Him. All my joy and all my grief. And the twisted mix of the two. Days like today, I give to Him. I simply can’t do it on my own… my heart hurts too much.
I love Jesus, my guy Chris + our four. We seek joy. Homeschool. Adventure together. Mess up and start again.
oh Sara – I can't begin to understand your grief, but I will say this: you are brave to share your heart here and you never know who is reading this and needed to hear your words.
While our losses can be beyond our understanding, your trust rests securely in a God who knows every tear that falls from your eyes.
Thank you for being so vulnerable.
And thanks for the morning together, friend 🙂
my friend – I so thought of you when I watched that beautiful girl, in all of her strength, skate — as the tears rolled down my face, I saw His strength. He hold us and provides for us all the time — but especially when it's so obvious to us that we can't do it on our own.
thank you for sharing your heart.
i think sometimes our insecurity causes security. it causes us to cling the the One and Only.
joy and grief together can sometimes be beautiful sara. give yourself grace.
God reveals his strength through our weakness. if we were always strong when would he have the opportunity to be glorified in us. He is being glorified through/in you sara.
shortly after i lost my son a pastor told me of a woman who was still grieving the loss of her son from more than 20 years earlier. he said that her grief kept him alive to her. he gave me permission to grieve, to keep my son's memory alive, for me, even if it was in the mourning. this helped me heal. helps me heal. i don't live in that place, but from time to time the grief hits, and i miss his presence, i hate that he was stolen from me, and i long for Home, caleb, and Jesus.
I know that God grieves for us. This separation from us…look at the measures he took to get to us. came as a man to get near us, came as Spirit to be always with us. He wants us near. we're suppose to be near.
I guess i just want you to have permission to grieve. I want to say it's okay.
and i too have insecurity. insecurity by two parents who rejected and abandoned me. insecurity that shows up more often than i'd like it to. insecurity that makes me the ugliest version of myself. but God, in His time (slower than mine), is shaping and using me, my insecurity, my thorns, for his glory.
Sara, this is an incredible post. Tears started streaming just reading this entry. Are you a writer? If you aren't, then you should be.
I think you could be an incredible light to people who are facing similar situations. I just got my beth moore book and cracked it open last night.
I want to thank you for your kind words about Jay and let you know that your thoughtfulness means more than I can express. Thank you.
And maybe we can compare notes on our book we're reading together 🙂 I have heard it's life changing!
Sweet girl (I hope I can all you that. I'm just meeting you), I'm sorry for the grief you still feel. I read it and feel a double hurt for a precious 10 year-old girl in my family who just lost her mama (my cousin) to cancer.
Life is hard.
I also read So Long Insecurity and participated in the discussion group. It was a worthwhile experience. It's good to uncover those wounds that still need healing and finally get them taken care of. May yours fully heal.
Blessings to you.
(Oh, saw this on (in)courage).
What a real heart real hurt post. I hope that you know that He is with You. He sees you. He lives to pray for you and strongly support you.
2 Chronicles 16:9a,
Stacey
Hi Sara. I clicked over from (In)Courage. This is a beautiful post. I haven't lost my mom, and I am so sorry for your loss. I can't pretend to know what you are going through but I have grieved for my mom in different ways- the mom she wasn't, the mom I want her to be, and also I have lost big chunks of her to addiction along the way. Your post is beautifully written and speaks to my heart so much. Thank you for sharing.
i think sometimes our insecurity causes security. it causes us to cling the the One and Only.
joy and grief together can sometimes be beautiful sara. give yourself grace.
God reveals his strength through our weakness. if we were always strong when would he have the opportunity to be glorified in us. He is being glorified through/in you sara.
shortly after i lost my son a pastor told me of a woman who was still grieving the loss of her son from more than 20 years earlier. he said that her grief kept him alive to her. he gave me permission to grieve, to keep my son's memory alive, for me, even if it was in the mourning. this helped me heal. helps me heal. i don't live in that place, but from time to time the grief hits, and i miss his presence, i hate that he was stolen from me, and i long for Home, caleb, and Jesus.
I know that God grieves for us. This separation from us…look at the measures he took to get to us. came as a man to get near us, came as Spirit to be always with us. He wants us near. we're suppose to be near.
I guess i just want you to have permission to grieve. I want to say it's okay.
and i too have insecurity. insecurity by two parents who rejected and abandoned me. insecurity that shows up more often than i'd like it to. insecurity that makes me the ugliest version of myself. but God, in His time (slower than mine), is shaping and using me, my insecurity, my thorns, for his glory.