Just a couple nights ago, as I felt myself drifting into sleep, I asked (if) Mark could/would come visit me, in my dreams. I’ve asked this a lot, to be honest. And for whatever reason, God chose to answer my request this time.
As dreams often go, mine had about 4 different (and often weird) story-lines that sort of intersected at points:
Grief is a journey unlike any other. The grief of a mother for her child is, I’m told (not 
that I doubt it), the most profound there is: I have been, we have been, utterly shattered by Mark’s death. You never really do “recover”; instead, you eventually emerge from the dark, soft webbing of your grief cocoon and find the world has changed, too, because you see it with different eyes. The wings you unfold are stronger, maybe a little darker, but also luminous with hope and anticipation. You know that one day…one day, all will be well.
As I have shared this journey, I have been conscious of a sense of responsibility. I’ve wanted to be 100% honest, but not without also holding out the hope I’ve always felt, even if very very dimly at times.
In no particular order.
• That you wore nothing but Sperry’s boat shoes for the last many years (which made me worry about your arches) and they smelled HORRENDOUS.
• How you talked to the cat. I still talk to the cat like that. Who taught who?
• How much you LOVED Legos, and Bionicles in particular. I realized last fall, just before you died, how hard it was to put them together! And little 6, 7, 8 year old you never asked for help.
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I don’t know if I’ll be able to write tomorrow, so I’ll say this today: as you might expect, we are weepier as October 8th approaches. One whole year without Mark. But I recently realized – and this actually helped me – an “anniversary” can be just another day. Here’s what I mean….
Over the course of the last many months, I’ve become uncomfortably aware of…well, my arrogance. That whole bossing-God-around thing; me telling God what will make me feel better, what will help me move forward, what He “has” to do in order for me to want to live again, in light of this great, great loss. Who, exactly, do I think I am? And I say this not as though God is like…The Wizard of Oz (“pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!”): power-mad, arbitrary and capricious. I say this with a dawning re-awakening and re-awareness (not a word, but it works) of Who God Is. What God Is.
That is exactly how I feel…today.
When I began to consider sharing this blog, I thought, somewhere in the recesses of my mind and heart, it would not only be an outlet, a release of everything I was experiencing (which would help me heal), but ultimately be something for the greater good, in the end….. Something powerful, connecting, affirming for me, the writer; for you, the reader. I wanted to be able to share hope, to say God does exist, that He loves and is with us, even in this worst of all possible places. I do believe this can and has happened; but I also wanted to find my way into the sun again, by now.
Loving God –
You are the eternal spring of living water, the source of life, of peace and of purpose.
You are an ocean of mercy and grace.
You are the storm and you are the calm.
It is no accident that our tears – when we are deeply moved, whether in joy or pain – are salted like the sea, pouring out as water. Everything has its being in you – we live, move, breathe and swim in you.
We ask, Lord, simply for a deeper sense of your presence, of your indwelling spirit – for a heart more like yours, for ears to listen, for eyes to see the world with your deep, aching compassion. Help us remember each morning to strap on our spiritual swimming goggles for the day so that each person, each challenge, each opportunity can be seen through your lenses.
We pray for peace, Lord. We pray for our world’s wounds to be healed.
We pray for those who lead and those who wish to lead.
We pray for the oppressed, the marginalized, the lost, those who feel forsaken. May they come to know you through your servants’ active love and care.
Amen
As I wrestle with God and the why-questions I know He probably won’t answer (in this 
life), this is sort of the underlying bigger question: why pray if God is in charge/in control/going to do what He wills regardless of whether it matches our wants and desires? OR, to put it another way: does prayer make a difference?
July was quite the month for dreaming. I wish I could remember if I ate or drank differently. Or maybe all those tears during June and earlier in the month helped wash away the debris for a while so I could “see” more clearly inside my subconscious. Endlessly I dreamed of being in or moving out of a temporary place; of cleaning up a rental we’d lived in a long while.
BLUE SKIES REMIND ME 