Sunday, July 16, 2006

My Mother Made Me do It

It feels like today started several days ago.
I was scheduled to sing worship this morning, and that wouldn't have been so bad, if I had actually spent time in God's presence since my dad died. I have not really sought God out. Oh, sure I pray for people as I remember them, I skim over my devotions, but actually spending time in the presence of God....don't really want to do it. Not ready for the emotional onslaught that will ensue. So, singing fast happy songs would have been okay, but the worship pastor had other plans, bless his heart.
"It is well with my Soul" showed up on our song list on Thursday. Uh, hello fella, not a good song to sing for was one of the songs at my father's invokes feelings that mostly I am trying to get relief from. What do I do? How do I deal with this in a cool collected fashion. Dutifully, I tried to listen to the song, but it didnt work, I broke.
Finally after a sleepless night, I wrote the pastor and email, hoping there would be time enough to change the list.
Saturday, I went to bed, checking my email, to no avail; no answer.
I went through a sleepless night, wondering how it would be, what would happen, how I would deal....................
I arrived at church this morning, with a sob stuck somewhere in my throat, and proceeded to have the dreaded conversation. I like to appear that I have it all together, but in the midst of the conversation, all I remember saying is, "I just dont know what to do." He was gracious, gave me an out, offered me, whatever I needed. I still didnt know.....and then I had an Mother.
Not such a good plan. "I think you should sing." she said. "But mom, come on."
"I think you should sing," was her reply.....kinda like on a cold school morning when you didnt feel well, and just wanted the option of going back to bed....."take a shower, you'll feel better."
And so, I sang. The practice didn't go well, from my perspective. I cried a lot, and I didn't have a kleenex, so there I stood, snot running down my face, with a few good cry hiccups, feeling like a failure, because I let my emotions get the best of me. I showed weakness. I hate that.
Seventeen years ago, I learned that the show must go on, so I braced myself and did what I could. The song came, I tried to sing where I could.....closed my eyes when I needed to, and when that failed, focused on the siren like vibrato that was coming from behind me. That was enough to make me not pay attention to the words of the song.
There are, apparently, several stages of grief....I believe that today, I have entered 'anger.' I marched in the house from church and in need to do something big, to show that I was the boss of my emotions, I tore apart my office and started to clean. I threw stuff away with a fury most would like to avoid. I threw stuff away that I have kept for 8 years. Purging.
As I sit here I realize that my purging was more of wanting to purge myself of these emotions that keep hounding me.....but instead, I just cleaned my office thru tears.
I wonder what the next stage of grief is.......

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