Lost and alone

These past few weeks have had me on a storm watch. I feel in the depths of my soul the changes taking place. That instinct or gut alarm that goes off to alert us to be wary of our environment and watchful for signs of hidden dangers.

Outside the day looms dark, dreary and cold. My spirit mimics that gloomy sadness. A storm is coming. I don't know when, nor can I predict the intensity of the damage it may unfurl. I sense it hovering, but I don't have a clear line of vision. I feel helpless and unprepared.

Turning on the weather channel is useless. Even with all of the sophisticated equipment it can't predict, or monitor the internal storms of life. If only it were severe weather I could plan ahead. Stock up on groceries, make sure the flashlights have fresh batteries. Have the candles and matches standing ready for use and wood hauled in for the fireplace in case of a power outage. Confidence in being armed with an emergency plan, prepared and standing ready for active duty.

In life we can also prep and plan for future unknowns. A life insurance policy, homeowners insurance,  sufficient savings, a retirement fund and even a will to protect the interests of those we could leave behind.

Unfortunately life storms and grief are not so easily managed. They arrive as unwanted, uninvited guests with unpredictable timing. They show a lack of respect and have no regards to the pain, stress and inconvenience their presence places on their unsuspecting host.

The arrival brings changes and the fear that go hand in hand with the unknown. It unleashes a torrent of uncomfortable events and stirs up long buried emotions. Grief leaves me helpless and unsure of how to defend myself in this present storm.

I cry out for God to save me from the pain, yet knowing He often chooses to teach me life lessons forcing my dependence on Him to carry me through the stressful times in my life.

Lately I have been greatly missing my parents. Life changed so dramatically after my mom's death. Our family fractured and fell apart. Each one lost in their own grief.  To each of us she was our person, the glue that held our family together.  Mom was the only one that seemed to have the power to reign everyone in and bring us together as a family.

When my father was still alive my focus became centered on his care and nurturing. This was in addition to being a working, single mom trying to balance all the demands, while caring for my family too. Dad and my children kept me grounded and gave me a sense of purpose. Caring for others has always come easy for me. I was so busy juggling everything and taking care of everyone else that I didn't have time to grieve my own personal loss.

Three years later when my father passed away I wasn't prepared  for the scared, wounded little girl that surfaced. The lost, lonely, orphaned inner child who still cried out for her parents.  Unfortunately she remained neglected as life's demand didn't afford the time to nurture myself even if I had known how to.

Over the years I had learned to put the needs of others above my own. People depended on me for my strength and help, especially when they were in times of crisis. I often wondered if they were really that blind to my personal pain, or simply chose to ignored it because they didn't know how to help me. People literally fell like dominoes at any signs of my weakness, emotional needs or my loss of composure. I was expected and often forced to be the lifeline for others when I felt adrift at sea myself.

The grace of God and the strong faith that was instilled in me kept me from crumbling and falling apart at the seams.  God was my anchor and my personal lifeline.

Many times I would stop and reflect on how my mom would have handled the situation and use that as a pattern or guide. It often meant just going through the motions, the "fake it until you make it" approach.

Funny, how thirteen years after my mother's death that grief still rears it's ugly head. At times the pain and loneliness of that loss washes over me with such a brute force that once again I feel like I'm drowning in an emotional cesspool. Jesus Is my comfort, my strength in my weakness.  But oh how I still ache to be held in my mother's arms and comforted. To once more hear my mom reassure me that I'm not alone and that we'll get through this together.

I still yearn to spend time with her, to ask for her advise and hear her words of wisdom. But most importantly to feel the warmth of her touch and feel her love wash over me. I wrap myself in a blanket, close my eyes, try to picture her face and pretend it's the comfort of her hug, but it's never the same.

Here I am, a grown woman, a mother of adult children, and the thing I want the most is to have one more day spent with my mom and dad. To once more feel valued, treasured, safe and loved.

Instead, I'll wipe my tears, pray for strength and as my mom would stay "buck up and carry on". For among all of the values and life lessons she taught me, the greatest was how in difficult situations to stand up tall, hold my head up high, put on the full armor of God and to warrior on!

And so I will follow in her footsteps and continue on. Praying I touch as many lives in a loving and positive way and thus continue her legacy of faith, strength and love.