Focus (or lack thereof)

My husband's grandmother passed away unexpectedly Saturday evening.  She and her husband have been amazing testimonies of life, godliness, aging well, and sharing faith with family...among other things. 

Saturday was difficult.  Sunday was slightly exhausting.  Today has been worse than either.  The initial shock has worn off.  The feelings I've got churning around inside on behalf of this wonderful woman's children and grandchildren are deep, and rough, and sad, and heavy.  We rejoice that she is with her Savior, husband, family members, and friends, but we have to keep going on here until our turn comes.  And it stinks. 

She lived with my sister-in-law and family, and they were with her as she passed away quickly and peacefully.  My sweet nephew is learning about death and mortality and asking precious (and difficult) questions.  When the answers are gently explained, he responds even more precious-ly (and difficult-ly) as he processes the new reality.

Emily and her cousins with Vee - 12/2011

I spoke with both sister-in-laws Saturday, but I have had a dull ache in my chest for my poor mother-in-law since then.  Today was the first day I got to speak with her.  Only a few moments.  But now the ache is worse.  And I'm frustrated, because there's not really anything to say initially to make the hurt lessen. We have joy, we have hope, we have peace (ultimately), but there is still a grieving process.  "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." (Mt. 5:4).  There is a time for all of these things, and the Lord understands this.  I try to spend time reading my Bible, but I stare off into space.  I think God understands that, too.  I've talked to Him and listened to Him, but right now, I want to be silent before Him and ponder.

Then, to top it off, my Jehovah's Witness visitors returned today and we continued discussing their first principle (the one I still haven't agreed to after 5 times now, so we haven't moved forward).  I kind of wanted to physically fight them today as they told me that Jesus isn't God and that we cease to exist when we die.  How untrue!  That is the exact reason I have hope.  Because those two things are.  Most.  Definitely. True.  I believe that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord, and that Jesus Christ is God's One and Only Son.  He is the exact representation of God's being, through whom nothing was made that has been made, and he sustains all things by the power of his word.  I also believe that he is seated at the right hand of God in Heaven interceding for us, and that he is the purification for our sins.  (1 Cor. 5:6-8, Heb. 1:3, Jn.1:3, Heb. 7:25) 

And so, today is a bit blah.  I'm heavy with sadness, and I won't see family to hug them until later this week.  But even hugs can only do so much.

Emily with her Vee - 12/2011

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Update: Hugs help quite a bit, though.  My sweet hubby and baby and I all cuddled, and I'm feeling better for the moment.  I'm going to try to get some things done before the next wave hits.  Because, as we know, sorrow doesn't come all at once.  It ebbs and flows for quite a while.

Empathy

Empathy and passion.  For better or worse, these are two of my strongest traits.

When an event occurs in someone's life, it's as if their heart molds with mine.  I literally feel for that person.  Miscarriages (sadly) and new babies (especially) tend to get me all fired up and prayerful as of late. 

If a rotten thing happens to someone I love, or even barely know, I can become nearly sick over it.  In fact, the Olympics wear me out.  I'm so full of joy and pride on behalf of whomever wins, but at the same time, I just feel awful for the 2nd through last place finishers.

Tonight, I just kept saying over and over, "poor Patriots.  That's so frustrating.  They must feel awful." etc.  I was cheering for (and ecstatic for) the Giants!  So why the concern with the Patriots?  Empathy.

When Christopher Hitchens (a grumpy, witty, atheist guy with a great British accent and a huge ego) found out he was terminally ill, I got a stomach ache.  Just thinking about the suddenly-sped-up-closer-to-now encounter with God made me shudder for him.  The day he died, the same sick feeling settled in my stomach.

So, having said that, it's been a passionate, empathetic weekend, and I'm exhausted.  I don't feel like going into details now, but I definitely FEEL.  

This is a picture from when I was 4.5 mos. pregnant.  I sat in the bathroom and laughed and cried for no reason that either of us could discern for 25 minutes.  While empathy is different than hormonal mood swings, the end result frequently looks the same, and this picture is kind of how I feel right now, but a tad less smiley.  And not in maternity pajamas.