Mascara in my Eyes

Welcome to my emotional whiplash! One day it is joy and happiness, and the next it is tears and fears. But this is my reality. Experiencing death does weird things to the brain. I have days of total bliss, and days of total anguish. I am updating my blog in real-time, so that is what you get -- reality. But that is what I want recorded -- the good and the bad -- because it is the stuff of life. It is the stuff that makes me who I am, for better, or for worse. 

Waterproof mascara can only handle so much. I have tested its limits and beyond. I made the mistake the other day to let my tears fly while wearing eye-makeup. My eyes are still burning from the painful tar-in-the-eyes experience. I generally try to keep my crying to the nighttime hours, when most of my makeup (if I am wearing any) has worn away, but I did not do that. I cried in the middle of the day. I cried on a Monday. So I still had makeup on from church the day before. (Don't tell me I'm the only one who leaves it on...) 

I had just been given a blessing by my dad. It was the first one I had received in 3 months, since visiting Alaska in June. I needed one desperately. I was excited to hear what Heavenly Father had to say to me. Ever since Charles passed away, I have begun writing down bits and pieces of my blessing immediately after receiving them, so I don't forget the counsel I receive from my Heavenly Father. This Direct Counsel is priceless to me. It really helps to write it down, you should try it. I keep copies in my journal, and reflect on them often. 

As I sat on the couch with my sketch pad and pen, I asked my parents to help me remember the words that were spoken. As I began writing and pondering on the words, I got choked-up as I discussed some things with my parents. One of the things that concerned me the most was being told I would be, "taken out of my comfort zone." My heart rushed and fought against itself thinking of any sort of change in my life. I am already horribly out of my comfort zone with everything that has happened in the last 6 months. As I discussed the prospect of more change with my mom and dad, I began to bawl like a helpless and needy baby, wearing too much mascara.

As I cried I just kept wiping my eyes. I could not stop the waterworks. My parents listened and offered some thoughts as I felt a fire brewing inside of me. I became afraid. As I discussed every single detail of my fears, the black hole grew larger and larger, until I was almost consumed with the weight of my burdens. My eyes filled with the blackness from my makeup, and my heart began to match the darkness. Fear is a gnawing poison, and it was eating away at me. The more I allowed the fear in, the more I felt my choices were limited and my future bleak. 

My tears were flying because my heart had just experienced a violent spiritual jolt. I had just been informed that at some point in the future -- near or far -- I will be ripped from my comfort zone. At this point I have no idea what being taken from my comfort zone means, but I am afraid, one day, I will find out. It may not be change that is forced upon me, but it may be me who needs to be the force of change. 

I was also told that, "doors would open for me, and I need to take opportunities when they come." My heart is currently full of compartments, or "doors" that are shut tight, and that can only be opened from the inside, by me. I was told not to close doors, I need to keep them open, and be in tune with the Spirit, so I can follow the promptings when they are given to me. And they will be given to me, if I listen. 

As I sat wallowing in my fears, my father spoke of faith. I consider myself a very faithful person, but as he spoke, I began to wonder if I have been limiting myself because of my fears. The things I am concerned about are legit and "reasonable" worries, but they are also standing in my way of having faith that things will work out in ways that I cannot see, or understand. There is life ahead of me that I cannot even dream of at this moment. Will I allow my fears to keep me from a bright future? Will I allow my worries to distance me from my hope? How strong is my faith, really?  

As I try and figure out my future, I find that I can't. I don't know what it holds. Right now, today, I have no idea what choices to make to help me "move forward" or progress towards... the future? 

You see, Charles was my dream. My life. He was my everything. All of my hopes, desires, and lovely imaginations of things to come involved him by my side. We were making all of our plans together, as a team, as a whole family. I would go and do anything with him. I would live anywhere, or adventure into the great unknown with him, and I would do it happily. As long as we were together, I would be happy in a cardboard box. My ambitions, goals, and pursuits were all tied to being part of a team, a beautiful marriage. But now, I have to come up with new dreams. Because now, I am a widow. (I really, really, hate that word!) Ugh. 

My whole life plan has changed without my permission. 

I still have some earth life left before I get to be with Charles again, and I have potential years to fill full of joy and memories -- but I am not quite sure how to make decisions that will provide the greatest possibilities and chances for happiness in this life. Right now all I can imagine is raising my kids and living until an old age right where I am. I have no vision of anything else. Nothing else is coming to me, no direction, nothing is clear. Change seems not only undesirable to me, but impossible -- so far away. I mean, I could change everything in a second, but I am in no way eager to rush anything at this point. All I know for sure now is how to stay the course. Steady as she goes. That seems right to me, right now. But as I well know, all things can change in an instant, in one breath. 

There are moments, like this morning, when I woke-up and I just wanted to move. I wanted to change everything. As if moving away would make everything better -- though I know it would not, and I would take all my pain and baggage with me wherever I wander. But still, I got on the internet and searched for houses, and options. Before Charles passed away we spent many hours looking for a new home (he had his realtor license, so that was nice), since we were/are bursting at the seams in our 2 bedroom home. 

The things is, I have a love/hate relationship with our house now. It holds many of our happy family memories and lovely times -- but it is also the place where Charles fell to the floor and stopped breathing. And though the house is not always a constant reminder, those images do often haunt my mind and my steps. There is a feeling of great peace here still. But sometimes, like today, I was kneeling to pray on the ottoman in our living room, and the image of Charles kneeling at the same ottoman, sweating profusely, and struggling for his breath -- was staring me right in the face. As I looked at the place where he knelt dying, I could see that moment as clear as the day it happened. I could see Charles looking at me, begging for me to help him, to save him. 

There is some pain for sure, but there is also such a peace here. There is a spirit of familiarity that holds layers of life experiences and flashes of joyful memory -- it is like living in a beautiful scrapbook with four walls and a roof. We have had our home for 6 years, and we have had great times here. We have made everything beautiful, and just how we want it. We have laughed, and cried, sung, and even died here. It is home. And home is a powerful place. The good far outweighs the bad. The happy memories are usually powerful enough to keep the "dementors" at bay. "Expecto Patronum!" (Did you know that means "expect protection" in Harry Potter language?) 

The children never want to leave this home, they want to stay here forever. Sammi said just yesterday it makes her feel close to daddy by being here. She fears we would lose that if we went somewhere else. But she did not see what I saw... I was the only one. The kids all have positive, good memories. I cannot tell you what a tender mercy that is. I would gladly bear the burden of bad memories to protect my children from them. I am grateful God was merciful in that regard. I am grateful I was the only one in our family who saw Charles die. Oh, I am so very grateful for that! 

I do not know what being taken from my comfort zone will mean. I don't know what to do? But I don't need to know, yet. It really could mean anything. All I know is that I am as comfortable as I can be now, and I am not very interested in shaking that up! 

I do, however, feel the winds of change. Last night there was a fierce wind blowing outside, so I put on my running shoes, and I ran straight into it on purpose. I made sure to stay away from trees, and I wore sunglasses to protect my eyes, but I wanted to feel the wind whipping against my body. I wanted to face the wind head-on. When I got out to a very open area I stopped, put my hands in the air, and yelled up to the sky, "What is it? What do you want me to do? Where do you want me to go?!" There was no answer, but I felt a strong impression to turn around and head home. 

When I got home, I went into my backyard before going back in with the kids. While the wind was still violently blowing around me, I knelt down to pray. It was dark, I was being pushed around by the unseen yet tangible air, and I asked again, "What do you want me to do?" 

I remained on my knees, and with my hair whipping my face, I opened my eyes and looked inside my house. It was nighttime, and the lights were glowing -- it was like watching a silent movie of real life. Henry was running around, Daniel was playing the Baritone, William was playing with LEGOS, and Sammi was drawing a picture. From my perspective outside looking in, it looked Heavenly. I realized that I do not need to worry so much about what is to come, because this is my now. This is my today. 

The future will come at me one day at a time. As I live each day, making choices each day, I will find myself in another time and place -- perhaps out of my comfort zone. So to get wherever I'm going I just need to continue on with my days one at a time. Because that is all I can do. I can't live a week into the future, or a year, or 10 years. It doesn't work like that. Life is now. As I live today fully, my vision for the future will unfold before my eyes. 

Today I still live in my comfort zone. Today is where I am now. It is a gift from God. I am grateful for it. 

And tomorrow... well... I will worry about it tomorrow. 

You never know where the winds of change will take you! 

Do they make wind-proof mascara? 

P.S. If you look closely at my eye picture you can see Charles' reflection, since he took the picture. I thought it was slightly symbolic.