Tag Archives: sorrow

Be Bawling your Eyes Out (At the Gym)

Who walks into their gym and bawls their eyes out?

Me!

Who sobs crocodile tears all over a dog?

Yup, that would be me again.

This week, I walked into the gym for a usual workout, it was squat day. I walked in carrying my shoes and water bottle and see the service dog that is often sitting on the mat by the bench waiting for his handler/trainer to finish her workout. I have never greeted the dog because I wasn’t sure if the dog was working or not. I saw the handler/trainer working out and asked if I could give her dog a little pet. She said, “Yes!”.

I proceeded to sit down and the dog looked me in the eye, like only dogs can do. Viola, tears start flowing, sobbing ensues and I am soaking the fur on the top of the dog’s head.

I did “get myself together” to do my workout, but I realize in hindsight, with a bit of a chuckle, that I probably needed that cry more than any workout!

The blessings of dogs.

Enjoy their soulful presence.

Their divine eyes.

Their knowing ways.

Their ever present love.

We are blessed to have had both our dogs for so long.

Be Empathetic

Have you pondered empathy and what it really means?

I have heard lessons and even taught lessons on empathy and sympathy but have never lived it in the marrow of my bones.

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Sympathy to me is a hollow pit. Empty. A fleeing neighbour. A mom who says, “Sorry for your loss!” then pushes on to talk about her son’s birthday party. Sympathy is lots of flowery words that flutter away.

Empathy to me is warm and surrounding. An indescribable action that sticks to your bones and holds you up in grief. An acquaintance who says nothing when I tell her about my mom, but just stands in tears. Friends who ask me how I am and listen for the answer no matter how I rattle on.

As I grieve, and ponder, I am grateful to share my counsellor’s new website and blog. Can you guess what she wrote about today? Empathy and Sympathy.

Exactly my struggle.

Exactly what makes me want to hide.

Expert words to help me continue to row my boat of grief.

Thank you to each person who is helping me row this boat 24 days after mom’s death and five months after my world was turned upside down from cancer.
Here it is: Jodi Krahn

Be Driving In Between

That drive between the new city and our old town is truly spectacular.

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the sun sets off to my side as I’m heading south.

i can see deep blue green lakes and mountains near and far.

the purple sky, blue skies, the red skies, orange skies.

the orchards, the trees, the snow on the mountaintops.

BUT my soul is filled with anguish as I leave my mom, as I drive back to my ‘new’ life.

BUT my heart is with my mama, my mama in pain, my mama lying, my mama sick and unable to live her life.

My mama My mama My mama.

Life is such a dichotomy – beauty is all around me in all of God’s creation. I am amazed by the nature that I see surrounding me as I drive.

BUT my heart aches, my heart is broken, tears fall, big huge crocodile tears fall down my cheeks

BUT I pray and I hope and I sit in my pain in the presence of God’s beautiful creation amidst the pain.

Mom was in so much pain today that she couldn’t be touched. All she could handle was a quick kiss on the cheek by the boys. I gave her a kiss on the forehead and it was like I could feel the pain emanating from your body.

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Peace Mama. Peace!

Be Living In Godly Isolation

I stand.

On my own.

I wait.

For someone to say something.

For someone to smile, to notice, to see this shattered human among them.

I stand.

In the unknown.

I wait.

For someone to tell me something.

For someone to tell me it will be okay, mom will be healed and I will have my best friend back.

I stand.

Not knowing.

I wait.

For someone to show me something.

For someone to show me why I am living here in isolation with my boys, away from my parents, from my support, from the place I am ‘known’.

I stand.

I understand.

I wait for no one.

No human can answer my questions.

No one can be enough, no one can help me comprehend or bring me moment-by-moment comfort.

I stand.

I am not alone.

I wait.

God is my strength.
My Someone.
My everlasting peace and joy.
My understanding.
My known.
He is more than enough in my isolation from family and friends.
Thank you Jesus.

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