Wednesday, September 3, 2008


I got called out on Monday. And it was such a good feeling. I know, that's a weird definition of getting told you are WRONG. Sounds stranger than Nelly and Tim McGraw's duet. Normally, getting called out makes me feel bad. Not this time.

He said the sweetest words..."Nobody expects you to just get over all of this. Except yourself."

yep, he pegged that girl in one sentence.

My expectations of myself have always been high. I can't think of a time when I didn't have them. They have been my constant companion over the years. But in that moment, I started wondering why in the world I squirmed so warily against the strong arms (both the tangible ones and the transcendent ones) that held me. The only place that offered a haven for the grief.

But I already knew why. I like being strong. I like being both spiritually and physically dependable at all times and I feel that I lose some of my purpose if I'm not being available to meet the needs of everyone in the free world. And heaven forbid, if you see me without my cell phone, somebody has pried it out of my cold, dead fingers...

For a really, really long time I took some amount of pride in being the one everybody could count on. Now the Lord has so gently allowed me to come to a place where the pride dies because...

other people have to care for me this time.

I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's so scary for me. It's terrifying at times to think about how to act in this new role. A few weeks ago, I was watching a movie with Seth. (The movie is called Bella and it's brilliant, by the way.) At the end, the main characters are sitting on the beach. The woman talks about losing her dad and the pain that she endured as well as watching her mom suffer.

I lost it. I couldn't help it. I mean to tell you that I had a full-on ugly cry with snot everywhere and not a tissue to be found. For probably two or three minutes I sounded like a dying partridge.

I let it all out for just a minute. Then I switched to Superthatgirl mode where I suddenly remembered that my poor boyfriend was probably scared to death at my ridiculous outburst of emotion. I got up and walked out of the living room, hiding my pain and my tears and my emotions in the atrociously wallpapered bathroom where Seth keeps my special Bath and Body Works Freshwater Cucumber soap. I sat on the toilet and cried like a little girl.

Meanwhile, Seth sits in the living room frustrated that I felt like I had to run away until I could pull myself together. He just wanted to let me cry and rub my head until I felt better again. Why can't I let him? Or anyone else for that matter?

Everyone in my life wants to be strong so that I don't have to. Why can't I let them? I find it's much easier to push the ones I love away so that I can do it on my own. I used to be good at that, you know.

But now, God has brought me to the place where I am not able to do that.
I used to be the one that could support everyone, spin all the plates, and never drop a one. I took some really intense pride in the fact that my problems never overtook me.

I have to laugh thinking about that last sentence. How deceived was I? I regret pushing those that I love away and constructing a wall for my own protection. It just hurt me more.

I know all the right answers. I have heard all the lines. I have gotten all the pat explanations as to why my mom died and why I feel this way.

But it doesn't take away the ache.

and that's okay.

I am thankful that this has been repeatedly brought to my attention by caring loved ones. I am thankful that they are not scared of my pain, or my loneliness, or my grief.

Most of all, I love that God is allowing me to now feel the grief instead of ignoring it. Although it's much harder to work through than to walk around it, it is beautiful that I know I will be more like Jesus when I have finally beat my fists against his chest over and over and over again until I finally quit fighting His embrace. I have it on good authority that he is waaaay stronger than me and will hold me until I relent and let him comfort me.


Elle MD said...

your words are so have it on good authority that He is waaay stronger than you and will hold you until you relent and let Him comfort you...peace be with you.

Michal said...

Laur, your transparency is simply beautiful. There's no other way to describe it. Thank you for this post!