The New "Normal"

It's been a roller coaster week. In so many ways, I've been blessed by friends and family. I had a "surprise" birthday party last night, and spent even more time with friends and family today. Overall, it was great. But, when no one but my immediate family has been looking...I've pretty much been a mess.

I think the crying started Wednesday night after worship practice. I kept it together the whole time (pretty proud of myself, actually), but then I completely lost it on the way home. It hit me that I was no longer expecting to see Mom's bedroom light on when I came home. We had only lived with Mom in the new house for eight months, but they were wonderful times filled with establishing new family routines. The new house has been such a blessing in so many ways, but one of the biggest blessings was that Mom was able to have her own room. It was the gathering place for all of us every night. Sometimes one by one, and sometimes all at a time, we would gather in her room...watch a little tv, check our email (that was the temporary place we had set up the computer), or just sit on her big chair and chat. I would so love to see that warm glow of light coming from her room as I came home from worship practice. It was really difficult the first few times after she passed away, to come home and not see it on, and to know that she wasn't waiting for me. That's why it hit me so hard this week. I realized that I was no longer even thinking about seeing her light on when I came home. I couldn't help but wonder...when did this become NORMAL?

When she died, I felt so paralyzed. I had no idea what to do next. I had never lived a single day without her in my life...never taken a single breath without her here. Everything was new and foreign. Every single thing was a first...the first time I brushed my teeth without her here, the first time I took a shower...and on and on. And yet somehow...somewhere along the line...I've become USED to life without her??? It's just beyond my comprehension.

Most people have said to us that the first year is the hardest, because it's filled with a million firsts. In many ways, I completely agree. So incredibly difficult. But, after we had reached that one year mark, someone said to us that in many other ways the second year is more difficult. It's the year that reality sets in.

I think I'm experiencing that and I have to tell you, I don't really like it. I don't like the fact that I could ever get used to life without my dear Mom. I am constantly transported back to the day she left, and the time before and after. It seems like just a moment ago. I don't know how I've come to this place. The place where I'm getting used to the fact that she's not here day after day. The place where she's not here to celebrate birthdays. I did, in fact, have a really nice birthday, filled with more than I need or deserve. But there's still an empty spot that just can't be filled tonight. More than anything, I just wanted my Mom. My very best birthday memories are of times when things were kept low key. Mom and I would go out for supper and shopping. That's it. So simple. So perfect. Those are precious memories that I cherish.

Mom had this little prayer that she copied down on a sticky note (she loved sticky notes) and kept it close to her bed. I have it tucked away in my Bible now. It's strangely fitting, and I would like to think of it as Mom's birthday wish for me.

Dear Lord,
Let me not dwell in the memories of my past, but help me to face the future with expectation and courage, eager to find the blessings You have planned for me there.
Amen

As I struggle tonight with defining "normal" in my life, I am reminded that the only constant in all of this is my Jesus. He "is the same yesterday and today and forever" (Hebrews 13:8). I don't know where the future is taking me. I don't know what God has planned for me to accomplish. I don't know in what other ways he will challenge my definition of "normal." But it will change. As scary as that is, I can't stop it. The only thing that I can do is to try to seek out the blessings in the changes. I know they are there, and I know that it's what Mom would want for me.