Comfort November 30, 2009
It could have been worse. A lot worse. Just thinking about driving 1200 miles in a little car with a very active sixteen month old is enough to make anyone anxious. But overall our trip home went well. It was a holiday weekend, but somehow we didn’t run into any traffic the entire way. Let me also say that whoever first thought to attach a playland to a fast food restaurant is a genius. Giving Sky a half hour to run out her energy every now and then made a big difference. Before we left my mom promised Sky would settle into “travel mode” and do better than we’d expected, and she did. She only had two full-on meltdowns and one of them was at the end of the drive when we were only an hour and half from home. (Nothing seems that bad when you’re that close.)
But the best part of the whole journey happened about fifteen minutes after we got home. My friend Amy from MOPS showed up with a carful of groceries for us. She’d called earlier to ask what kind of milk we like and said she was bringing over “a few things.” Then she showed up with enough food to stock our entire empty refrigerator. She’d collected money from our MOPS table to buy the groceries and she also coordinated meals for us for the next few weeks. After she’d gone I noticed there were flowers on the counter too, and a card from all the MOPS moms.
I stood in my kitchen and let myself cry for a few minutes. Though I’d really, REALLY been looking forward to the end of our road trip with Sky, I’d been dreading the moment when we’d arrive home in Florida, far away from my family in Michigan. Coming home means that life is moving forward even though my dad is not here anymore, and that just seems strange. It feels wrong. I don’t want to move forward into life without my dad, this life where my mom is a widow. Yesterday, November 29th, would have been my parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary and I couldn’t think of anything else all day. In Michigan we talked about my dad a lot. His clothes still hang in the closet and his change and pens and index cards still sit on his dresser. But here in Florida, just a handful of people have even met my dad. How could I expect anyone to understand how different my life suddenly feels?
But Saturday night when we got home I realized that someone does understand – Amy. She lost her father just seven months ago herself, and because of the way she’s reached out to me, I don’t feel the loneliness I’d been expecting. Whenever I open the fridge, I’m reminded of Amy’s kindness and the sweetness of everyone else at MOPS, and somehow this dark, draining time is suddenly a little less difficult. Please God, help me be that kind of person too, the kind who goes out of my way to comfort my hurting friends.
“All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.”
~ 2 Corinthians 1:3-4
I wish I had had MOPS when I was your age…but I had your grandma, your mom and your aunt so I had what I needed! They were too far away to bring me groceries but their wisdom and encouragement was worth their weight in gold! I remember asking your mom a million questions at the beach while she dug around in the sand for the gallon of juice she had buried to keep cool…but now couldn’t find
It is wonderful to see you grow up to have a beautiful family of your own and give God all the glory. I will keep praying for you all!
Blessings, Barbara
Your story reminds me of Grandma’s comment about experiencing the “milk of human kindness”which is flowing. More than that though, God is blessing you through others. it’s great isn’t it!
I go to a MOPS group too and I think it is so important for moms our age, with babies, to have a safe place to go where there are other people who are “going through it” like we are and can empathize and be there for you when you need it. What an awesome blessing to have that! I am praying for you and in fact prayed for you several times throughout Friday…glad to hear it wasn’t that bad! My prayers that God will continually sustain you throughout this time, the holiday and the last weeks of pregnancy! love you!
Hi there,
I found your blog via your mom’s blog, which was forwarded to me by a friend! I just wanted to let you know that you are not alone in your grief and in the weirdness that is losing a parent to cancer much earlier than you ever imagined. My mom died on August 17 this year of cancer, and I have struggled to find the words to even describe the experience. I, too, have struggled with infertility – reading some of your posts has encouraged me to revisit my approach to it. Thanks for sharing your thoughts here.
Nicki
Altho I haven’t spoken with you or seen you yet, I’m thankful you all are home, none the worse for wear, and so look forward to the hugs. Seems you’ve been gone 6 months instead of two….truly missed, and so VERY THERE with you – in spirit – through it all.
Life goes on, my sweet, and our Heavenly Father, in His infinite mercy….gently nudges us forward to experience it. Hug my angel and tell her ‘GG loves her”…you and Adam can hug each other for me until I see ya. Blessisngs.
We do understand your loss and void, for we have lost many that we were close to when we were in our mid to late thirties. John lost his dad when he was in his late thirties. We still miss him and the others and talk about them when something reminds of something they did or said. The holidays and other things in life may try to push you forward, but you go at your own pace. We are all here to help while you feel like you are in slow motion. Much love.
Linni,
I’m so glad that you have such amazing friends so close to you! I’ll be praying for you – I can only imagine what a hard transition it must be.
Praise God that we have friends that are willing to walk with us through the depths.
Miss you!