Melancholy - a state of deep, pensive, or extended sadness and gloominess. Rather than just pure despair, it often involves a gentle, reflective, and quiet sorrow or a serious, thoughtful mood.
That’s me.
Why?
That’s what I am trying to figure out.
Lately anywhere I go I see moms with young kids – grocery store, drive thru, restaurants, church – everywhere I go – I can’t get away from it. A sweet sadness overcomes me.
Last week I was so overcome tears spilled over and I diverted to an unused aisle.
Oh, how I wish I could go back. I LOVED being the one person who fed, bathed, rocked, read stories as babies. I LOVED being room mom, parent teacher conferences, sleepovers. I LOVED dragging kids to baseball, football, wrestling. I LOVED sitting for hours on numerous types of bleachers. The smelly gym after wrestling. The freezing fingers from football in the snow and rain. I LOVED every single minute.
And, now, it’s gone.
I look at moms and see the tiredness while dragging a whining kid through the store. I know you. I was you.
Being married to a farmer I did it all. Exhaustion was a constant friend. He left at 5:00am and returned anywhere from 8:00 – 10:00pm or later for many of the kid raising years.
I see you mom in the waiting room at the doctor’s office. Concerned over what’s ailing your child. Can you afford this visit, will this spread to the whole family? We didn’t have money set aside for doctors – yet God figured it out for us. And I remember one time we had the stomach flu for a solid 6 weeks. As soon as one recovered another picked it up and on it went.
Moms at the store with glazed over eyes while shoe shopping. My kids never were able to have the cool shoes. Yet, they turned out ok and your kid will be fine without them too.
I heard you mama with the harsh words because you were completely empty of anything kind. I have too many memories that I spat out things that were more like weapons than words of love. Oh, how I wish I could pull them back. It’s a hard memory to have. There is forgiveness for that.
And, all too soon this season of life will be a memory for so many young mamas. I heard those words while in the middle of the battles and while I knew in my heart that would be true, my brain was too fried trying to cope that it didn’t fully register.
I’m still trying to figure out why the feelings now?
I think it’s my age and even more, grief. That nasty emotion that roams around in your heart. Hiding so well you forget it’s there just to jump out at you when least expected.
For me grief is fresh – does it ever go stale though?
Within a 10 month period I lost five people I loved dearly. And the one year anniversary is coming up on the hardest loss.
I’m trying to figure out how to wear grief comfortably. It’s like a picky wool jacket that if you keep the collar loose it won’t scratch. But, if you forget and button it up or turn your head just right the feeling is there. I’m still working on it.
Seeing the stage of life I loved the most living out in front of me sets the stage of sweet remembrances. Knowing it will never return causes my grief jacket to rub up against my neck.
That irritation sends me to Jesus and he kindly reminds me.
Soon.
The jacket will be left behind and replaced with a wardrobe of glory.
For any of you feeling the wool jacket, know I’m praying for you as I write this, you are not alone.
