Rebuilding

I know it's been a while...months even.  I have writer's block.  Every so often, mostly on lazy Sunday afternoons, I sit down at my computer to write.  For the past year writing has been my solace and, more importantly, free therapy.  I have craved your comments and support, and my heart has been soothed by your kindness.  While typing I have released all the messy emotions and complicated thoughts that tend to crowd my brain.  But lately, when I sit at my computer, that is all I do.  I just sit...and stare...and then I get up and do the dishes, or vacuum.  Sometimes I think about an idea all day.  I roll it over in my mind.  I sit and wait for my fingers to move, and they wont.

Its not that I don't have messy emotions anymore, or that I'm not thinking about God, or life, or death. I have not forgotten Jonah or the pain that punctuates my quietest moments, but I can't seem to share it with you. I feel hesitant.

I've been trying to pinpoint why. Why has this once intensely personal free-flowing river diminished to a trickle?  I have shared everything on this blog, my deepest pains, my regrets and my sorrows. What is different now?  I think that fear is at the heart of it.

I realize that I am moving into a new stage of grief now.  I don't cry everyday.  Sometimes I go a whole week without crying. I am distracted by work, and entertainment, and making dinner. My thoughts have shifted from the past, through the present, and now they spend most of their time in the future; worrying and dreaming. My grief is transforming from mourning to rebuilding.  Honestly, I don't know which one is harder.

Mourning is exhausting.  It is a constant physical and emotional struggle. In the depths of mourning I desperately needed help. I needed people to hear me and carry me and cry with me.  The initial stages of grief are so visceral.  It is all about survival.  My daily goals included trying to eat and to get out of bed. When you are in the depths of sorrow all effort and improvement feel impressive. You can't help but be proud when you put on makeup, or go to the store.

Rebuilding is different.  Rebuilding is about faith.

Rebuilding reminds me of playing with Jonah. I used to stack his colorful wooden blocks while he stood anxiously waiting beside me. As the blocks rose higher Jonah's chubby hand would reach wildly to swat it down.  When they crashed to the floor he giggled with delight and waited for me to build again. On my darkest days I wonder if God is like a destructive toddler, waiting to topple my flimsy towers.

That fear compels me to confine and qualify my dreams with the possibility of pain. The possibility of toppled towers. I think to myself be prepared...sometimes things fall apart.

But there is something brighter in me that responds...sometimes miracles happen.

I long to believe that God is a God of miracles.  I want to believe that life is not just about pain and endurance, but it is also about joy. I having been praying lately that God will help me have faith. Not faith that he can heal, because I have felt His healing.  And not faith that he loves me, because I have felt His love. But faith that He will make miracles happen in my life. I want to believe that God cares about my desires. As I have prayed I have felt a growing confidence that He not only hears my prayers, but that he cares about what I want most in life.

Rebuilding is far more personal that pain and grief.  It is the essence of hope.  In order to start again, to try again, I have to let myself dream of brighter days and taller towers.

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. Psalm 30:5