As I mentioned in my last post, I gave up all TV and Facebook for a week. At first, it was simply liberating! I was taking care of so much unfinished business. I read like crazy and finished a book in 2 days (Orphan Train is awesome if you need a good read). I also spent way more time with the Lord and had a vision for my next project at work. It was invigorating! But, by day 5, I was yearning to get lost in some drama show or mindless scrolling on Facebook. It was much harder than I expected. I find that I really lean on these distractions when my sweet Ty is away. The weekends are usually more low key when we have just the baby. It’s hard to shift gears and say good bye to Ty and our routine with the older boys. Even after almost 2 years of sending him off to his dads, we both grieve when we say goodbye. So, when my boy is gone, I just want to sit in front of the TV and be numb. I don’t want to think about missing him. I don’t want to think about how much it hurts to have to say goodbye. I just want to feel nothing.
The absence of media meant the influx of feelings. I felt everything I have been avoiding over the last few months. I had a lot of time to think, ponder, and pray. It was difficult but the tears that came were a relief in a way.
One of the tasks I wanted to accomplish during my media fast was cleaning out our master closet. I began shifting things around and purging when I stumbled upon old pictures of me from 2004. Man, I looked young and full of life! I feel like I have aged significantly since then. Oh, I have been through so many ups and downs in 10 years. I am a totally different person, but a better one.
Then, I opened a box I have had since 2008 where I kept every single card I was sent when Meredith was sick and when she died. I opened it and began reading. There are probably close to 300 cards in that box. As I picked each one up, I wept. Many of them were from acquaintances while others were from dear friends or family members. Some were from complete strangers. All of them were a precious gift as they reminded me of the love and encouragement I received during such a difficult time. I was in the deepest pain imaginable, but each day came cards of hope. People poured their hearts out to me. They were on their knees in prayer. In the 20 cards I got through, I noticed that many of them were from the people that I see every Sunday at Providence.
As I glanced around my Sunday school class I wanted to say, “Do you remember writing me a note when my daughter was sick? Thank you, it meant so much that you prayed for us even though you hardly knew me.” Instead I was paralyzed and on the verge of bursting into tears. I am so thankful to be known by so many amazing and generous people. All these years later, our paths have crossed again and now I have the privilege to pray for the very people who cared so deeply for me. It is an honor.
As closed this special box, I was struck by the commonalities in the cards I was sent-- each person expressed how Mer’s story had a huge impact on their lives. I was reminded that her story is not over. That she lives within me still and our journey together will never end.
Don’t think of her as gone away-
Her journey’s just begun,
Life holds so many facets-
The earth is only one.
Just think of her as resting
From the sorrows and the tears
In a place of warmth of comfort
Where there are no days and years.
Think how she must be wishing
That we could know today
How nothing but our sadness
Can really pass away.
And think of her as living
In the hearts of those she touched…
For nothing loved is ever lost-
And she was loved so much.
E. Brenneman
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