The Journey Begins Here and Now

Procrastinator.  That's not the noun I'd prefer to self-describe.  Not me! For years, I saw myself as a direct resolute decision maker. Never let it be said that anyone ever had to wait on me. to do my part.  No grass grew underfoot.  No way, Jose! For the most part, my assessment proved true, as long as it involved me in relation to others.

Sadly, when forced to turn the spotlight on myself, when I could no longer look through a mirror dimly, a different image emerged.  One where brutal honesty reluctantly prevailed.  What a blow to self esteem! To train the mirror of truth on moi, bereft of inane platitudes and well-formed distortions, humbled me greatly.

Formidable grief and prolonged mourning, in truth, precipitated an intense and unparalleled scrutiny. Unaware at first, the process really began with Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS) that swiftly swooped away the life of Philip, my toddler grandson.  Angels transported him from earth to glory during a night in July.  Fully for a year, I existed in a catatonic state. A year when I neither  believed I would survive to the first anniversary of his death, nor did I much care.  

Frankly, I no longer wanted to live.

To hide my vulnerability and protect what semblance of sanity survived, I clothed myself in a personality that bore no name---and carried no labels. I dwelt in a nether world that changed with perceived needs.  I became who I needed to be for my daughters, parents, friends and colleagues.  Although who the "I" of me was I couldn't tell you, not even now. 

By the time Courtney, my younger daughter, died suddenly on a Sunday morning a little over two years ago, my personality had reconstructed into a semblance of sanity.  Most days, I acquitted myself well and performed like a mature professional, a model of survival-of-the-fittest.  Or at least that's what I told myself six days out of seven. And even though it appeared that the rollercoaster of grief hadn't upended me, I still practiced life as make-believe.

What caused me to confront the lie of my life? Not just one thing, I assure you.  However,  the confluence of thoughts, events, and evasions that created the compelling perfect storm remains a mystery.   Maybe, I tired of the charade that had just about swallowed me up, like the big fish did Jonah, and I cried out to the God of my salvation, as Jonah did.  

Maybe as I became a woman of sorrows well acquainted with grief, I finally understood that God has always been with me.   Jesus Christ had died on the Cross for such a time as this so that, "When peace like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul.  Tho' Satan should buffet, tho' trials should come, Let this blest assurance control, That Christ has regarded my helpless estate, And has shed His own blood for my soul.  Hello, Truth!