The Hallway

I've heard it said that God never closes one door without opening another. But it sure is hell in the hallway.

And that's where I'm at today. Today my patience is wavering. I knew this wasn't going to be easy. But what do I do with the sea of emotions battling it out inside me, in my stomach, in my head, even in my throat sometimes? Why is it I can function properly (and when I say properly, I mean that I have been able to put my game face on, tuck my weary bag aside and act as if...) and then at times, one look, one sigh, one little tiny but powerful thought knocks me down and smacks me upside and my tears are no longer containable? Each breath today moves aside a mountain of pain. It's true. This is not easy. It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

My fears sometimes get the best of me. I worry that if I don't do something, anything, my husband will decide to call it quits. And then my trust in God and this process comes back, and hope returns. Because thoughts of this whole thing ending, thoughts of life as a single mom doing this whole thing alone, lonely nights, lonely times, Oliver growing up in a divorced home, even dating someone else or step-parenting.... well, none of that is appealing to me and just hammers upon my heart the hurt and devastation I often feel.

So I grasp onto hope almost as quickly as the pain had just eased its way back in. I can't do those negative thoughts. They have the potential to kill.

Pain is a funny thing. It does come and go. When it's alive and allowed to flourish, it manifests itself so quickly into a mountain. Once I push it away or walk thru it, the scent lingers, much like someone's cologne lingers on your hair or clothing after a hug. It never truly goes away. It's nearby, waiting, waiting patiently for me to invite it back in. It's ever so patient.

I give the pain a home sometimes. I let it thrive and live in my soul and my heart. Then I have to shake it off, for it's all too consuming, and I fear it will kill me. I have to live for my son at the very least. I have to pray to walk thru this with dignity and grace. That doesn't mean I wont feel what I'm feeling. But it does mean that I have to move thru this, focus on Oliver, do the daily things that I have to do and just trust that this process has a beginning, middle and end. I suspect I'm still in the beginning, unfortunately. I have to believe there will be an end. Eventually.

Sorry this isn't more upbeat today. I'm venting in order to process. I'm leaving a little of the hurt here on the page.

I'm not a religious person. I don't subscribe to any one faith. But lately I have found some comfort in places I normally do not look. A friend left this passage as a comment on this blog one day, and it was very powerful to me. Later that same evening, a women I met in passing said the exact same passage. This was no mistake. I believe in my heart that I need to focus on these words that I will post below.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your request to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7

I leave you with gratitude. It's contrary to the events taking place, but it's possible to find things in life to be grateful for even when one is in the barrel. I'm grateful for my son, my health, my home, the kindness between my husband and myself, the way we can place Oliver's needs above our own, for my father, for my job, for a set of wheels, for friends and family, for the ability to pay my bills each month. For the way God sends me angels when I need them. For the way I am being taken care of carried each and every day.

Thank you for reading my blog and allowing me to share parts of my life and our journey with you.


And from 1 year ago.....

sunflower patch