There have been times in the past year, year and a half, that the feeling of being cornered or overwhelmed has been greater than any other feeling. It has been great enough that I had to remind myself to breath.
There have been many moments in the last year when the home dynamics of boomerang kids and teenagers has created anger and resentment like I have not experienced before.
There have been days that dawned with such a great sense of joy the smile could not be touched. Those days where I hoped all could have some of the joy I just knew was overflowing from my cup.
I have experienced so many STRONG emotions.
Last week it was a heavy heart. I was not sure exactly how to express it. It seems every week for the past couple months someone we know has lost someone close to them. It is sad watching these folks go through the loss and feel the void being left.
Last week my husband came home at lunch and said he had received two more emails about co-workers losing family members. One co-worker I do not know. The other I have known since high school when I babysat her children on weekends. He said her niece had died. That stopped me in my tracks. Puzzled I asked, "her neice? She wasn't my age was she?" He answered yes and he continued preparing a sandwich. I then said, "please tell me it wasn't Michelle..." Still preparing his sandwich and not quite catching on to my tone or concern, he said "yeah, that was her name."
Forty one years old. A mother of an 11 year old and 7 year old. My age. Someone I had also known since high school. We could tweak the "seven degrees of Kevin Bacon" game to fit our world. Our circles have touched in some form or another since I began babysitting for her aunt all those years ago. All those years ago, and yet we are still young. She was at school in her classroom preparing for the new year when a heart aneurysm stopped her earthly world and sent the world of those around her into a spin. It did make my heart heavy for them.
I also realized that other than that feeling, I had hit a sort of plateau. A season of quiet maybe. No extremes. I think I had been spinning some in that unfamiliar spot. What am I suppose to do with this? Something is missing! But not really. It is a season maybe to just listen. To just breathe. To reach out where I can. And if I can't do anything else, then I can do the same I do in all the other extremes - pray. But I can focus even more on others and their cares and their burdens. And that is what I will do.