A Praying Mantis, A Bandaid and a Penny
"Sometimes the ache of missing Bill is so deep that I fear it will swallow me alive." That is the note I had Siri make on my phone as I drove home from church this morning because today was one of those days. I can't figure it out.
Was it triggered last weekend when the kids were in for our mini KCU family reunion? When they left?
Was it initiated by the emotions of thinking it was Andrew or Bre at the door last Sunday afternoon not long after we had said our goodbyes, thinking they had returned because they had forgotten something but when I opened the door it was to a young man I didn't know. I opened the storm door, shook his hand and we had a brief conversation about the white pine in my back yard. He said it was getting too tall, would I be interested in him trimming it and gave me his credentials. My response was no, I had spoken to a friend about it and their advice was to let it be.
Was it the feelings that rushed over me after I shut the door, disappointment that it wasn't Andrew or Bre and frustration with myself for opening the door to a stranger? Scolding myself, reminding myself I had purchased a storm door with a lock for security? Anger that this is another decision I need to make?
Was it memories of planting said tree with Bill and the kids when it was a skinny little sapling 10-12 inches tall? Or recalling the conversations Bill and I had about the white pine, before it got massive-should we trim it and keep it like a hedge? Another when it got ten feet tall. When it got 15 feet tall? Twenty? His answer was always, "no".
Was it concern over what happens if it IS too tall? What if there is a wind storm or an ice storm and it comes down? A week ago my answer to those concerns was to pray, as I sat on the back porch and looked at it, that if it did come down it would either fall on my porch roof or back toward the car wash and not injure anyone.
Was it coming home to no one to celebrate the Men's Regional Championship with Saturday after I arrived home? Or one of any number of small things that came up last week. Or looking at pictures and coming across one that captured Bill and I so well that it felt like he should be standing next to me? That I should be able to reach out and touch the warmth of his face and feel the stubble of his five o'clock shadow on the palm of my hand?
Whatever it was, it made getting out of bed and getting ready for church this morning a conscious effort. It made going to KCU for lunch an easy decision because I didn't have to cook and I wouldn't be eating alone. It made the choice to take a walk after coming home and setting my fantasy football team lineup a disciplined option. All I really wanted to do on this beautiful fall afternoon was cover up inside under a soft cuddly blanket, read and drink coffee. But I knew it wasn't what I needed to do so I folded some Kleenex, stuck them in one back pocket, my phone in the other and took off.
Up Park Street. Across Carole Malone. Up Main Street. Down Landsdowne. Heart tugged to make the cemetery loop past Bill's grave. Heart also refused to make loop. Around KCU campus. The entrance loop-and as I prayed, "Lord, I don't know what to do..." I looked down and saw this little guy-
A praying mantis. So I smiled to myself and continued as he was-walking and praying. I continued toward Carole Malone, noticed this
and thought, "there isn't a band aid big enough to cover this hurt...and it feels like one was just ripped off of my heart, leaving it raw and exposed..." I continued walking and praying, but not smiling now. Asking the only one who could handle this boo-boo to do so. I made the turn back toward Lusby Center. And the hurt got bigger. Deeper. More encompassing.
When I got to this swing across from Pieffer I sat down. Sometimes it is better to sit and let the tears flow in public than it is to keep walking and hope to get home, but not knowing if your legs are going to hold you up because they feel weighted with lead or cement. I recovered and stood. Partially spurred on because some of my soccer guys had pulled up to the dorm across from where I was sitting and I did not want to answer any questions about my tears this afternoon and if they saw them they would ask. Strangers would walk past, but my boys would want to know what was going on.
As I walked up College Street my heart once again pulled toward the cemetery loop and I chose instead to walk another lap around campus and the entrance loop. I was headed home when my heart once again called me to walk the cemetery loop. To stop at the headstone. So I caved and walked it. Stopped at the stone. Read the engraving. Pulled out my last two Kleenex and brushed off what I could of the grass that was stuck to the marble, making a mental note to return with a rag and cleaner to do a better job soon.
I then headed home, tearless. Up Landsdowne toward Main St. As I walked Main Street I was looking down. Truthfully, most of today's walk was made that way to avoid eye contact. I saw a penny. Heads up. Of course I stopped and grabbed it-they are my reminder that God sees me. That He cares. That it is in Him I trust. I clutched it in my left hand, rubbing my thumb over Abe's face, the Kleenex I had used to clean off the headstone were in my right hand. I threw the used Kleenex in the first trash can I came to. Took a few steps and decided to stop and take a closer look at the penny. And wished I still had those Kleenex.
The date this penny was minted?
1954.
Bill's birth year.
The sudden joy and peace and happiness that filled my heart was bigger than than the pain that had been trying to swallow me up.
This lost penny now has a permanent home on my kitchen windowsill where I can see it multiple times every day. A special reminder that the God I trust cares about me. In a big way. About the smallest details. And He isn't limited by the means He chooses to show me that He sees. He cares.
A Praying Mantis.
A Bandaid.
A Penny.
They all shout "He loves me".
Was it triggered last weekend when the kids were in for our mini KCU family reunion? When they left?
Was it initiated by the emotions of thinking it was Andrew or Bre at the door last Sunday afternoon not long after we had said our goodbyes, thinking they had returned because they had forgotten something but when I opened the door it was to a young man I didn't know. I opened the storm door, shook his hand and we had a brief conversation about the white pine in my back yard. He said it was getting too tall, would I be interested in him trimming it and gave me his credentials. My response was no, I had spoken to a friend about it and their advice was to let it be.
Was it the feelings that rushed over me after I shut the door, disappointment that it wasn't Andrew or Bre and frustration with myself for opening the door to a stranger? Scolding myself, reminding myself I had purchased a storm door with a lock for security? Anger that this is another decision I need to make?
Was it memories of planting said tree with Bill and the kids when it was a skinny little sapling 10-12 inches tall? Or recalling the conversations Bill and I had about the white pine, before it got massive-should we trim it and keep it like a hedge? Another when it got ten feet tall. When it got 15 feet tall? Twenty? His answer was always, "no".
Was it concern over what happens if it IS too tall? What if there is a wind storm or an ice storm and it comes down? A week ago my answer to those concerns was to pray, as I sat on the back porch and looked at it, that if it did come down it would either fall on my porch roof or back toward the car wash and not injure anyone.
Was it coming home to no one to celebrate the Men's Regional Championship with Saturday after I arrived home? Or one of any number of small things that came up last week. Or looking at pictures and coming across one that captured Bill and I so well that it felt like he should be standing next to me? That I should be able to reach out and touch the warmth of his face and feel the stubble of his five o'clock shadow on the palm of my hand?
Whatever it was, it made getting out of bed and getting ready for church this morning a conscious effort. It made going to KCU for lunch an easy decision because I didn't have to cook and I wouldn't be eating alone. It made the choice to take a walk after coming home and setting my fantasy football team lineup a disciplined option. All I really wanted to do on this beautiful fall afternoon was cover up inside under a soft cuddly blanket, read and drink coffee. But I knew it wasn't what I needed to do so I folded some Kleenex, stuck them in one back pocket, my phone in the other and took off.
Up Park Street. Across Carole Malone. Up Main Street. Down Landsdowne. Heart tugged to make the cemetery loop past Bill's grave. Heart also refused to make loop. Around KCU campus. The entrance loop-and as I prayed, "Lord, I don't know what to do..." I looked down and saw this little guy-
A praying mantis. So I smiled to myself and continued as he was-walking and praying. I continued toward Carole Malone, noticed this
and thought, "there isn't a band aid big enough to cover this hurt...and it feels like one was just ripped off of my heart, leaving it raw and exposed..." I continued walking and praying, but not smiling now. Asking the only one who could handle this boo-boo to do so. I made the turn back toward Lusby Center. And the hurt got bigger. Deeper. More encompassing.
When I got to this swing across from Pieffer I sat down. Sometimes it is better to sit and let the tears flow in public than it is to keep walking and hope to get home, but not knowing if your legs are going to hold you up because they feel weighted with lead or cement. I recovered and stood. Partially spurred on because some of my soccer guys had pulled up to the dorm across from where I was sitting and I did not want to answer any questions about my tears this afternoon and if they saw them they would ask. Strangers would walk past, but my boys would want to know what was going on.
As I walked up College Street my heart once again pulled toward the cemetery loop and I chose instead to walk another lap around campus and the entrance loop. I was headed home when my heart once again called me to walk the cemetery loop. To stop at the headstone. So I caved and walked it. Stopped at the stone. Read the engraving. Pulled out my last two Kleenex and brushed off what I could of the grass that was stuck to the marble, making a mental note to return with a rag and cleaner to do a better job soon.
I then headed home, tearless. Up Landsdowne toward Main St. As I walked Main Street I was looking down. Truthfully, most of today's walk was made that way to avoid eye contact. I saw a penny. Heads up. Of course I stopped and grabbed it-they are my reminder that God sees me. That He cares. That it is in Him I trust. I clutched it in my left hand, rubbing my thumb over Abe's face, the Kleenex I had used to clean off the headstone were in my right hand. I threw the used Kleenex in the first trash can I came to. Took a few steps and decided to stop and take a closer look at the penny. And wished I still had those Kleenex.
The date this penny was minted?
1954.
Bill's birth year.
The sudden joy and peace and happiness that filled my heart was bigger than than the pain that had been trying to swallow me up.
This lost penny now has a permanent home on my kitchen windowsill where I can see it multiple times every day. A special reminder that the God I trust cares about me. In a big way. About the smallest details. And He isn't limited by the means He chooses to show me that He sees. He cares.
A Praying Mantis.
A Bandaid.
A Penny.
They all shout "He loves me".
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