Real but not raw

I wrote this several weeks ago.  Often it takes me time...a long time...before I actually publish my thoughts.  For better or worse, some of my posts do actually make it.

When I began writing, I'm not entirely certain I knew what my purpose for this blog was.  I think mostly it was just healing to get things out.  I've written many more posts than I've actually shared with the internet world.  Most of them a little dark or embittered, not tempered by next-day editing.  At the same time, I do remember thinking - the world doesn't really know what it's like.  I certainly don't know what it's like to live in the shadow of my child's death.  In the face of the rest of my life.  Not until I live it, day by day.  So why not be real?

But there is real, and there is raw.  And lately, when the evenings come to an end and I'm faced with the thoughts I didn't have time to think during the hustle and bustle of the day, I've been pretty raw.  I think there may be a few too many straws on this camel's back and it's been feeling a bit bent.

But today, in a quiet moment when it was just me and the little human doing a jig in my belly, I felt real, but not raw.  I flipped through the day in my mind - the sweet moments, the fearful moments, the sad moments.  Makayla is, as always, testing out new feelings or understandings of her life and the very present absence of her sister.  Today she switched her tone mid-sentence over an afternoon snack...

I miss Annabelle very much, Mommy.
What do you miss about her most?
Her heart.  And her love.
Well, those are things we can still carry with us, because we can always love her even though she's not with us.
Can I love brother, even though he's not with us yet?

I am so thankful that today was not a raw day, because sometimes I can't make it through these amazing conversations.  A few tears, she can understand, but when the streams come down, her focus shifts to concern for me and the conversation changes.  But today we both smiled and shared a sweet hug.  What a moment to remember.

Then there is fear...it has a devious way of sneaking in, permeating the depths of what I thought was steadfast faith.  It shouts at me from TV advertisements in waiting rooms and whispers at me from silent moments of uncertainty.  Even in the midst of beautiful conversations about a future with brother, I wonder...can I promise Makayla that?  Can I promise myself?

If it's a process, or a cycle, or a random barrage of feelings, I couldn't really tell you.  Is it a new stage of grief?  A reality of life in the shadow of death?  Whatever it is, it tests my faith for sure.  And that's it's own battle.  One fought out with God in the darkest moments.

Perhaps the hardest thing to contend with is that, no matter the joys that are before me, the sorrows are as present today as they were a year and a half ago.

I don't suppose I'd be accused of having it all together.  But here I am.  Sometimes throwing brave punches right back at the fear.  Sometimes poking weak jabs at it.  Sometimes running in search of a distraction from sadness.  But I'm here.  And I see the very real face of God in the middle of those comforting moments when I'm real, but not raw.