I was reading Jordan and Maddi a bedtime story tonight. My mind got stuck on the part that read, “He stomped his paws and raked his claws and growled, ‘then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down.” Over and over, I wondered, will you really blow our house down? Will you really conquer me? I am engulfed in pain, but not destroyed. Who is this wolf that comes to take away every piece of normal, our security, our safety, our life-line, our love? The wolf devours. And a simple children’s book can distract me beyond this earth’s time and space.
A dear friend emailed me this week and ended her note with an Italian expression encouraging me to hang on even “in the mouth of the wolf”.
One year approaches, since Shawn died, and I feel myself being attacked on various levels from staggering angles.
If the house has been torn down, God, please build us back up. If the wolf is stomping and growling, teach me how to tame my wild fear; teach me how to make friends with my enemy.
