MIA could be an understatement for the last couple of weeks. Life didn’t seem to welcome me back slowly when we returned home from the hospital. I pretty much hit the ground running, all the while begging life to slow down so I could catch up. Yesterday life and I found the same page. My boy was at preschool, my girl was snuggling with her nurse, everybody else was at work, and it was just me. I grabbed a cup of coffee, my computer, my bible and settled on my bed. Breathing in the deep solitude and quiet. I could feel it the minute things quieted. I needed to write. I didn’t want to though. I didn’t know what I was going to say, and I knew that whatever I did wasn’t going to be creative. I just didn’t have it emotionally to give.
The feeling wouldn’t leave though. Just write. Write. Write.
So I did. I opened the slim black Samsung, pulled up a blank wordpress page and started to type. Two things happened: 1. I wasn’t very creative and 2. I needed to write. As I started to let my fingers tell me a story I realized something.
Anger was no longer my buffer for pain.
Let me explain. Anger is a secondary feeling anyway. If you are feeling anger, you are probably truly feeling hurt or fear. Hurt and fear leave you vulnerable so in order to feel more powerful you feel anger. This last staycation with Katie Grace, was pretty intense. Losing her ability to use that left lung completely was a pretty big statement to her dad and I. In many ways, it felt like the beginning of the end. Charles and I had to talk about and think about and discuss, that this very easily could be the last year we have her. And very easily this could be the beginning of many hospitals stays, and what do we want those to look like and how many are we willing to do and at what cost. It was two weeks of not only, can she pull out of this one but what does life look like down after this one. We felt it too. It hit us like someone had taken a baseball bat and swung with all of their might, striking us right in our guts. Breathing hurt, speaking hurt, all we could do some calls was cry.
All of that to say this. I was pretty hurt and afraid. And here is what I discovered yesterday. I have used anger in the past to process that hurt and fear. I didn’t even realize I was doing it. You see, I have a soft spot in my history. This place where it seemed always appropriate to place anger. I could always easily just be mad when I thought about the situation and the injustice of it all. Its’ this man and his wife, and the injustice with which they have handled Charles and I. The way they treated us when we were with them, and the slander they have spoke about us after we left. The curses they spoke, the unkindness, and the way they twisted everything to look like we were evil and wrong. I so easily tap into anger about that situation and then boom, I didn’t feel powerless anymore. In a weird way, it helped me process my pain, cause I felt powerful.
This time though, there wasn’t the anger. I am not mad at them anymore. I will have to write more about that later. For this post I will leave it as, God’s mercy triumphs judgment, and in that, there is no room for anger. God mercy’s is all over that situation, and I finally found that place with him, where there is literally no anger to stir up. It is a really weird honestly. I had gotten use to being angry, like a crutch. Something I could just pull out and use as a support when I needed it. What I didn’t realized is that crutch was not allowing me to stand on my own two feet. It was keeping me immature. Disabled in how I felt my emotions.
The lack of anger this go around, meant that I was feeling the fullness of pain. I was standing on my own two feet as a grown-up, embracing what life was handing me. There was no anger to hide behind, to make me think I was powerful. There was no crutch. The minute my fingers told me the story, you what happened, I felt powerful. I didn’t feel lost in the sadness or fear.
I felt pain and fear without a crutch.
And I was powerful.