"I hope I did my part so He can do His part." -Matt Maher; Christian Song Writer/Artist
Here is my struggle. What is my part? I believe on one hand that I am walking where God is leading, yet my other side still feels flooded by the void of loss.
I see much good in my speaking and writing. But, my honest, human heart knows that there is a delicate balance between good for others and the gaping hole inside
me. I so badly want to see something good. It is upsetting to admit that after two and a half years of striving to create a new life, it still isn’t a life I would ever choose or prefer. This concept doesn’t make sense to me.
Tonight at dinner I watched my kids eat their macaroni and cheese with hamburger added in as an experiment.
"I don’t like it." Jordan wasn’t shy to tell me the truth.
"Well, this is what we are eating tonight and I would like you to be appreciative." I lectured.
"I wike it, Jo-dan. It good!" Maddi said in a positive Pollyanna voice trying to convince her brother.
One out of two isn’t bad, I thought.
The table felt so empty. With six chairs around the kitchen table, we only needed three. I wondered what today would have been like if the accident had never occurred; if Shawn could have used one of our excess chairs to join us. How I long for one "normal" day.
I wondered what we would have talked about and what Shawn would have said when his son didn’t like what mom had cooked for dinner. I wondered if Shawn would have been at work and I still would have been sitting at the table with just the three of us. I wondered what it would have been like to anticipate Shawn coming home from a late night shift again. The entire speculation seemed like such a treat.
Without control or thinking, a few tears left the hidden place inside me and generously streamed my face.
"You sad, Mommy?" Madelynn noticed right away.
"A little." I confessed.
Without prompting, Jordan’s eyes welled with similar tears as he expressed, "I miss my Dad. Mom, hold me."
I took note. I hadn’t said I was crying about Shawn. But, some things don’t need much explanation. Jordan knew.
I immediately felt bad. I rarely break in front of my kids. I don’t hide my grief, but I also try not to cry in our macaroni. I wanted to erase my tears so that Jordan could erase his own. Still I knew better. I let him come sit on my lap for a minute and we had a group hug. A 60 second embrace is always a good thing.
Then it was time to eat again. I encouraged Jordan to hop back on his seat and eat the meal he wasn’t originally too eager about. He cooperated without question somehow knowing our food menu was not up for discussion.
As I write, both kids are tucked in bed. I love to watch them sleep; such a gentle peace. It is 11:00 PM and my lingering thoughts swirl around a list full of hopes.
I hope I did my part tonight. I hope I did my part.
