Trying to Pick Back Up the Proverbial Pen

Where to start?  I have many a blog post that are brewing inside.  I could write a blog that corresponds with each of these titles:

Ashes . . . Around a Campfire and in the Wind

Arkansas or Bust and Believe It or Not, We Didn't Bust Once

Father's Day = Heartache Day

Six Month Check In

The Truth About Our Marriage

Spencer, the Young Psalmist

Yet, even with all these blog posts building in my mind, I just feel like talking.

Dave, Dave, Dave.  His name (or Daddy) is spoken of more and more around here.  Not less and less.  It is good and hard all at the same time.  I am so proud of my little kiddies who speak of him so freely and unapologetically, as his death continues to pretty much be our life right now.  I mean, I wonder what my longest stretch is, that Dave has not entered my thoughts?  One minute?  Three minutes?  Maybe more if I am watching a real cliffhanger like, TLC's "I Didn't Even Know I Was Pregnant?" (I literally can't explain why I like that show.  There has to be a psychological answer).

Anyway, back to my kids and their candid manner in which they talk about Dave.  This idea of them talking about Dave so freely became very clear to me as we were standing in line at the 63rd McDonald's at which we patronized on our trip. In between collecting orders (as if I didn't know by this time what they would get) Spencer swung his stuffed animal through the air and said, "Was Daddy still alive the last time we stayed at a hotel?"  According to their expressions, the mother and daughter behind us heard what he had said.  Spencer was not trying to let everyone hear, nor was he trying to make sure nobody heard.  He was just asking a question about Daddy.  I love how they feel the freedom to just simply talk about him or ask questions about him, anywhere or anytime. I, on the other hand, usually am measuring what I should say, what is appropriate, what would make somebody else feel uncomfortable, will I regret saying too much, etc. . . . They just talk.  

Speaking of talking, I just got this little booklet in the mail this week from my church.  It said, and I quote, "Talking helps you locate your pain, bring it to the surface, and let it go.  And because your wound doesn't suddenly go away, the pain recurs, and you need to talk about it again and again and again.  That's why grieving people need to talk about the same feeling or memory over and over."  And that is why I write some of the same themes over and over.  I feel like by writing, I am trying to locate my pain and figure it out.  Often times, when I am feeling the most crummy, I just start writing.  Sometimes I post it, and sometimes I don't.  Here is another quote of a quote from the little pamphlet,  by C.S. Lewis, "In grief, nothing 'stays put.' One keeps emerging from a phase, but it always recurs.  Round and round.  Everything repeats, Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I'm on a spiral?  But if a spiral, am I going up or down it?"  So true. So true. It really is tiring and I'm only at a half a year.  Of course, maybe I'm just tired like any other mom with three young kids on summer break.

I think the theme I could write about over and over is from my post, "My Double Life."  That has not changed a bit.  I feel like our family is doing incredibly well and painfully awful all in the same moment.  We've continued to live and live well.  We've continued to laugh, make new memories, take vacations, take steps into hard situations, live closer to Jesus, grow stronger and the list goes on.  Yet, today at church, I was 100% of the time, one blink away from a flood of tears.  I still don't know how to answer, the basic question, "How are you?"  I surely don't expect people refrain from asking that question.  It's impossible not to.  I've asked the same question to others in difficult situations.  I try to say, "It is good to see you."  Or, "How are you feeling today?"  It's just so engrained to say the other.  And, I'm sure this goes without saying, but I would much rather someone ask how I am doing, than not say anything at all.  One day, I'll be able to answer a casual, "Fine," and for that to be true, but not today.  Maybe tomorrow.  One friend and I have joked about, "Maybe tomorrow."  I say that about a lot of things, knowing that it won't actually happen tomorrow.  ie: I haven't taken a shower for two days now.  Maybe tomorrow.  

Well, I know this post doesn't really have a theme , but I just kinda needed to get started writing again after being gone for a few weeks.  I clearly have a slew of topics that I'd like to write about and am anxious to get to them, but I just needed to sit and write first.  So, which topic should I start with next?