Holiday Blahs

My mom died 12 years ago, today. It seems like an eternity ago. It seems like it was yesterday. I read in a book somewhere that people who have not lost anyone close to them view grief like quitting smoking - it gets easier with each passing day and you miss it less and less. The author disagreed with this comparison and said it was more like doing without water - you noticed its absence more with each passing day. I am somewhere in the middle. My mom's death does not occupy every waking thought anymore, but occasionally something will spark the memory and the gaping wound is ripped open again with its ragged edges of hurt and disappointment. I have no doubt that God did exactly as he saw fit and I try to trust His will. Really I do. But, it still hurts, the questions remain unanswered. Every year about this time I get in the most foul mood. I never understand why until I remember the dreaded anniversary and my mood makes sense.

I wish I could be more like her. I am glad we are different. She was awesome. Man she could be difficult. She was really an enigma, perplexing and complex, hard to understand. But, she did something right. We stood for hours while people shuffled by her casket paying their last respects. At one point, the line wrapped around the building I'm told. In her shy, backwards way - contrary to her nature, she reached out to people. I need to figure out how she did that.

I Have Had an Epiphany

It wasn't fun. I just realized that I really do not like people all that much. I am not sure why it surprised me. After all, I am an only child. My mother was extremely introverted. My first real sleepover was at the ripe old age of 12. I did get into them as I got older, but before that I had no desire to stay at a strange house. I spent the 6 years we lived on-campus at CLC hiding in the apartment. The ugly truth is, I just don't like dealing with people. This is disturbing because my husband is a pastor and I am supposed to be a people person. However, I cringe when the phone rings. I never call people unless I absolutely have to and Lonnie has adamantly refused to do it for me. It seems that when I stretch myself and try to reach out and plan something it falls apart.

So, now what do I do? I have to believe that God knew what he was doing when he put Lonnie and me together. There must be something in me that he can use to build this church. Right? He will use anything that is handy to fulfill His purpose. Right? His strength is made perfect in my weakness. The only thing I can figure is that I must be willing to allow the Potter to mold this vessel. He knows all the cracks and imperfections because he put them there. Right?

Still waiting for answers. In the meantime I'm going to check my voicemail. I think I may have accidentally ignored a couple of calls.