A realization of fears...

I’ve realized this evening that my life has been a realization of fears. When I was little I was terrified of my parents getting a divorce, then one day a few weeks before Christmas when I was eleven, they did. I’ve always been terrified of losing a parent, scared of them dying. I would cry and stay up nights just thinking about it. As a teen I lost one of my “spiritual “ parents, a women I was proud to think of as my second mom, she died of breast cancer, I was by her side when she took her last breath.

Now here, I may be miscarrying this child, and in the midst of this fear coming to life I’ve realized I have no idea how to grieve. I’ve always hated it, ashamed of it. I want to scream, yell, throw things, and hit someone, curse, blame, and point fingers in anger.  I want to give into those childish reactions but every time I start to feel that way, I hear my good friend Jordi singing “Praise you in this storm”. I had her sing it in the pitch black one Wed. night to my Converse kids. It was a long time ago, but I can hear her clear as day, comforting my soul as I lay in bed ready to fight. I close my eyes to listen to her sing and I see myself standing in the middle of an abandoned street, naked , ( why am I naked, since, I don’t like being naked, when I’m naked ..ha!), with rain falling down on me. I know it means I’m vulnerable; I’m without my clothes to keep me dry, protect me from getting sick.  I realize that even if I feel naked in a rainfall, with no protection, God is there. I feel like this scene is supposed to remind me that though I feel abandoned out in this painful, cold, place, God hasn’t left me. I’m in this vulnerable position, not by anyone’s choice, but he’s still there. Between every rain drop, he’s there. Between every tear, he’s there. Between every cry out to the pitch dark, he’s there. He’s there in the melody of Jordi’s voice, soothing me back to him. He’s there even when I don’t voice my pain or anger to him, he’s there.

In the midst of all my life’s “tragedies” he is still good. How is he good? Well, for one, I’m still breathing. And if we do lose this little baby, whose heartbeat was so strong but a week ago, he’ll still be good. How will he be? To be honest, I don’t know, I can’t answer that right now and may not be able to until I see that little baby again in his arms in heaven.  However, my unknowing, doesn’t waver my belief that he is good, because in a world full of tragedies, he redeemed the grief I gave birth to, my mom remarried an amazing man. He stepped in, loved me as a father should and created a bond with my broken daughter heart. When Jacqueline died, she left, leaving a path full of changing histories in people’s hearts, she made a difference.

I know that there will be more fears realized in my life and probably some I didn’t even know scared me, and though each one will present another feeling of an abandoned road, I know I’ll learn more about myself and be able to teach my son one day all those things I learned. Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather trade in those tragedies in an instant, I’m not one to say “I’ll take the painful road so I can become a better person”.  No thanks! But since I’m here anyway, I might as well learn how to breath in the storm, how to be in the storm, how to lean on His strength in the storm. So that one day, when the fears my son has, are being realized, he’ll stand in the rain and remember that God is good. God is love. And God will never leave him on that abandoned road in the rain, no matter how convinced he is of it.  Maybe in those moments, he’ll hear me singing to him “I am your beloved”, nd the truth  of God’s love will continue to be taught, to his children, and so forth.