Snow ... Flowers ... Life ...

The other night I finally moved the wilting and browning bouquet of flowers from Scott's memorial outside with the intention of putting them in the backyard compost bin. They got as far as the back porch because I just didn't feel like walking through the maze of dog poop in the dark backyard. I opted instead to wait to deposit the flowers and greenery in the bin the next morning ...

The day began yesterday with a fairly significant dump of snow, that blanketed everything, including the flowers, with a thick layer of fluffy white flakes (hopefully the last of the season!).

When I went out the door yesterday, I didn't pick up the vase and bouquet to carry it to the compost bin, but instead pulled out my cell phone and snapped a picture of it ... in many ways the flowers embody what I've been feeling lately.

I've described my brain as pudding ... it has been almost four months since I picked up a book and read more than a page or two ... I have had a '2 Do' that seems to keep growing rather than shrinking ... and most days I find it challenging just to get through it ...

The interesting thing for me is to KNOW intellectually that all of this is normal - I can at times even cite the exact place in the journey that I am from the many resources I've used over the last twenty years of ministry - but internally, it matters not a whit. My heart and mind are on two different pages, and all the knowledge about grief and the journey I've been on doesn't help me in the moment.

Most days, I feel just like these flowers ... I'm wilted and a bit tired while the cold and snow that has fallen around me has masked some of the brown and wilted bits, while creating something else that is beautiful in its own way ... I miss my Mom and my brother dearly ... I wish I could pick up the phone when it rings and hear the familiar voice that says "It's your mom ..." or hear Scott teasing those around him with a light-hearted "tee hee" ... I yearn to turn back the hands of time and undo the losses that I've experienced in the last three months ...

Yet, I know that grappling with these loses necessitates letting go and being present to the moment, knowing that in time the hurt will lessen ... but the tension between my intellectual understanding of this journey and my emotional experience is a challenge ... And it is a challenge that is heightened by the Liturgical Lenten Journey that marks this season in the Church Calendar.

My Lenten Journey began weeks earlier than the traditional 40 days that mark the distance between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday ... Lent is about preparing for the Resurrection that comes with dawn on Easter Sunday, a resurrection that embodies and embraces the fullness of God's Grace and Love in our lives ... Lent is about preparing by plunging into the deep dark corners of our lives and our world, and wrestling with issues of life and death knowing full well that we are never separated from the love and presence of our God, no matter how alone we might feel.

I also know my Lenten Journey will continue on long past the discovery of the empty tomb on Easter morning ... it may take months or even years to find an equilibrium for the broken heartedness that I feel ... and today, as I reflect on the last few weeks, I can say with certainty that this is okay ... there are no quick fixes, there are no easy answers, there is no magic wand that can be waved to lessen the pain or miraculously heal the hurts ... it takes time ... one step, one moment, one breath at a time ...

I've long counseled people facing crisis, loss, death or traumatic events, to stay present to the moment and not rush through to a place of peace and healing ... it's good counsel, and wise advice gleaned from the many resources I've used over the years ... the problem is, we live in a time and space that wants everything to be all better YESTERDAY. The tension and the challenge we face comes when we try to make our journey according to a time frame that proceeds at its own pace, within a world that wants to make everything warm and fuzzy instantly ... trusting in God, or whatever you dub the Holy presence in our lives, is the best we can do ...

The reality is, that sometimes it's just hard to carry the load that comes when we lose someone we love ... but step by step, the journey continues, and each step happens in the support and love of our God ... The promise of resurrection never falters nor fails ... sometimes the road is just a bit longer than we expect, but step by step we make our way from the cold and snow of winter, to the glorious resurrection of spring, and we travel at the pace and speed we need to feel and live the healing and wholeness promised by our faith ...

Today, my journey continues ... DAYENU !!