"...but what if I don't like the plan?"

Most of you know that the man I married last year is a widower.

I haven't gotten into the details of how and where and when with all of you lovely humans for a few different reasons. It isn't my story to tell, number one. Number two, I have a limit to HOW open I get with my life (haha shocking, right?? I have boundaries?! who knew?!).

Anyways.

I've done my best to provide a safe emotional space for the kids concerning that loss. I know what it feels like to lose your Mom...and it sucks. If they want to talk about it? Let's. If they don't want to? Let's not. Want to cry? Ok. Want to share funny memories? Cool. Whatever comes out that day, let's just roll with it and let it be.

Losing my Mom sucked as an adult - an adult who could understand the details of how bodies and cancer work, an adult who could process grief and loss and emotionally brace myself for the high probability of losing her.

Experiencing that kind of loss as a kid??? The shock? The inability to understand the logistics of how this thing even happened? I can't even imagine.

Last week one of my bonus babes sat me down in tears. Big, heartbroken tears. She asked me why. Why did Mommy have to die? I sat there on the bed and felt distinctly like I was floating outside of my body for a moment. Am I really sitting here having this conversation with this child? What do I even say? How do I explain this when I haven't made total peace with my own loss? 

I said a silent prayer that the words God wanted me to speak would come out...and that if they didn't/couldn't, that He would communicate in unspoken peace to her heart.

We talked for a long, long time.

I shared some of my feelings about my own Mom. She shared some of hers. We talked about grief being a cycle...sometimes it feels ok, and sometimes it feels VERY NOT ok. We talked about crying and how that's healthy, and we talked about distracting ourselves from the grief and how that can be ok, too.

At the end of it all, though, she still had the question...why?

I looked her square in the eyes and knew I couldn't lie to this kid.

"I don't know why...

...only God does."

Her emotional response told me that this was not the answer she was looking for.

Bear your testimony, came the thought into my head.

About what?? I don't know enough to say anything?? I responded to the voice in my own head.

Bear your testimony, the thought came again.

I took a deep breath, opened my mouth and these words came tumbling out:

"You know what I do know? I know that God loves us more than anything...and that means that when sad or scary things happen to us - there's a reason. There's a plan."

She thought about that for a moment. "But," she said through her tears,"...what if I don't like the plan?"

I have to admit that I laughed when she said that.

"I get it," I said. "I haven't always liked the plan, either."

We talked for a few more minutes before she suddenly transitioned into chatting about school and summer and things she wants to do when the weather is sunny everyday. She bounced out of the room and it was like nothing ever happened.

*******

Fast forward to today.

I was sitting on a chair outside watching the kids on the trampoline.

The two year old came and sat on my lap.

"Mama! MAMA!" she yelled over and over again.

I was trying to listen to another kid who was telling me a story from the trampoline.

"Hang on, baby." I told her.

"CALEEEEEEE!" she squealed as she grabbed my cheeks and forced my face to look at her's.

I laughed and pulled her hands away. One of the twin boys came and sat next to me.

"She doesn't call you 'Mama' because of our other Mom. She remembers her. We show her pictures at Grandma's house and tell her that's her real Mom," he offered matter-of-factly.

My heart jumped clear up into my throat and I choked a little bit on the emotion. It felt like someone had sucker-punched me right in the stomach.

"Oh? Ok." I managed to say.

I took a deep breath and acknowledged that I had heard the rest of the story from the kid on the trampoline. I then turned my attention to the toddler who was halfway through telling me a story at a mile a minute.

I suddenly felt so tired. I tried my best to answer each child as they called out for me to watch them, or listen to their stories, or answer their questions...but I suddenly felt like a balloon that someone let all the air out of.

I thought about the late nights and early mornings transitioning that baby from crib to big girl bed. I thought of the messy snack times, the baths, the tantrums and endless kissing of ouchies. I thought about the hours Jon and I have spent talking and strategizing about each child and what they need and how to parent them the best way possible. I thought about teaching that littlest one how to talk, reading to her, singing her lullabies at night. I thought about the hard mornings with a grumpy two year old, the time outs (for me AND her haha), the negotiating shoes and clothes and yogurt flavors and nap times. I thought about all of the years of life ahead of me as a mother to not just her, but to all of those kids who were jumping happily on the trampoline. The endless school projects, worrying about whether our diets are healthy enough, praying for them at night and while they're away from me...the hours of conversation yet to be had about everything from grief to dating to the gospel to which college to choose.

I'm just the babysitter, I thought. I'll always just be their babysitter.

It isn't fair.

I chose them...and they might never choose me.

That thought brought hot, stinging tears to my eyes and I had to shift my mind away from it as quickly as possible so I didn't turn in to a huge mess right there in the back yard on the morning of the first official day of summer. Oh how that thought felt like a knife in my chest.

Then my mind shifted. I thought about the woman who carried these babies inside of her body the way I'm carrying this baby now. The way she must have worried about and loved and cared for these kids. The way she must have daydreamed about their lives and choices and who they'd grow up to be. I thought about the weight of that kind of love.

I thought about how unfair life must have felt for her as she contemplated her final few days and all of the life she was leaving behind.

"...but what if I don't like the plan..?" is the thought that came to my mind last. I could see that child's face in my mind - her big eyes full of tears.

"What if I don't like this plan..?" I thought.

I thought of what the Spirit had prompted me to share that day: "God loves us more than anything. There's a reason. There's a plan."

God loves us more than anything.

******

I'm sitting in my living room now. I'm surrounded by toys and clothes and groceries needing to be put away and hungry kids in the yard who are threatening to ransack the kitchen at any moment. The feeling of being so tired hasn't left yet. My heart feels weird and sad and I haven't decided yet whether I'm horrible and selfish or just human and figuring it all out. Maybe a combination? Haha. For the record, I don't really think I'm horrible. This is just really, REALLY hard sometimes and I don't know what on earth I'm doing most of the time except trying to love this family and be what they need and that, my friends, is a really tall order on some days.

I guess the point of this blog is to share some of the mess of my life...some of the unanswered questions - in case your life is a little messy, too, and it hurts and you feel alone. Sometimes it's nice to know that there are questions that other people have that they don't have all of the answers to. Sometimes it's nice to know that there are challenges and difficulties that follow other people around, too...that it isn't JUST you who can't figure everything out right this very second. That it's ok to only know that God loves us...and to not like the plan when it hurts.

******

For what it's worth, I do believe that God loves us more than anything - and even when that doesn't fix all of my problems or take all of the pain away, it does give me hope that someday He will make it all ok; that someday things will make sense.

If you're struggling with intense things, maybe start there...start with a testimony of God's love for you and see if it doesn't make all the difference.

xo.