(That’s actually a lie. I’m not much of a poet so I’ll spare us all by not trying.)

I just want to say this: Mark had some spectacular eyebrows. I noticed them right away. He was a big baby when he was born — about 8 1/2 lbs (his sister was bigger. I chalk their size up to my pregnancy cravings, which I can describe this way: Meat Lovers Pizza). Mark also had a head of very dark hair, with the cutest long sideburns (earning him, briefly, the nickname “Tiny Elvis”). All that dark hair eventually faded away/fell out, replaced by a lighter brown, but the dark eyebrows stuck around. I drew this picture in my journal when he was a few months old. He would arch them, without realizing it, and I thought it was adorable.

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So — more on one particular book. Here’s the back-story….

A friend recommended this book called “Permission to Mourn: A New Way to Do Grief” by Tom Zuba.  Lots of good Amazon reviews…. OK. I ordered it. And was blown away (and wrote a little about it in early February).

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Tax season is full upon us. The woman who usually works with us – a treasure, the perfect match for our little enterprise – has been taken out of action by a medical issue. It’s been several weeks. The stress of trying to keep pace, to finish all these tax returns on time, without her, is just…well…it’s a lot. I’m trying not to whine (loudly) but OH MY GOSH.

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I’m actually rather embarrassed by my neediness. Maybe other people – who have faith and yet are having to live with the death of their child – aren’t quite so….demanding. Maybe they trust God more? So that they aren’t constantly pestering Him for signs and reassurances? Am I just super-pitiful? Or is God that loving, that kind, THAT gracious? (I’m putting that in bold because that is, of course, the correct answer. Thank you, Beth P., for the gentle smack upside my head.)

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You may not think dreams mean much. But I cannot help but be entranced, fascinated by them.

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This has been a dark month in so many ways. It’s cold. Tax season is starting to gather momentum and Steve and I are hard at work, operating with approximately one single brain between us. Unfortunately, almost all of our clients (99%) have agreed to return for another year of engaging our services. Crap. I’m sorry, God, I know I should be (am!) grateful for clients who pay us for our work, who appreciate our help. But CRAP.

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Welcome to my wrestling match. Maybe yours too.

My emotions are all over the place as I struggle to understand, to come to terms with reality. And today, I am feeling that I’ve been such an idealist, for far too long.

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Sigh.

What I’ve learned, or learned again, or am trying to learn:

(1) Love and community is all that matters, AND (not “but”) it’s also important to know yourself. Being with people I love and who love me, Steve and Sarah…and who love Mark (and don’t mind talking about him a lot) is super important…but right now I can only handle people in short, small doses. I know this is causing my family, in particular, great pain. God, I wish they could fix this, too. Whether introvert or ambivert, my inclination, when I am hurt, is to draw inward, like a turtle retreating into its shell. I don’t know how to do it any other way. I can’t force myself to be something I am not.

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