It's officially autumn per the calendar, but also per my schedule. Blake's in school again with a new teacher, I'm in a new Moms in Touch prayer group, and I'm in a new Bible Study Fellowship class. I first really ran into the following phenomenon last fall, then have realized it is going to be a regular part of my schedule, so long as I persist in meeting new people and doing new things: I get to share my story.
My story is also my testimony to how God worked (and is still working) His grace in my life. And I have to remind myself to use the term "get to share" rather than "have to share." Because my story is not a simple one, nor particularly happy. And though I can chat about big Blake with folks who already know my story with barely a tear (most times), there is something about introducing that history to folks who have no idea what sort of emotional sledgehammer I'm about to whack them with... it's very difficult not to be overcome with emotion myself. There are invariably questions if I'm not thorough, and even if I want to skip over big Blake entirely and just be a the single mom who met a great guy only three years ago... I can't.
I can't deny God's story in my story. I can't dishonor my late husband by trying to omit him from anything, and it seems that everything that impacts me spiritually revolves around what I learned from that tremendously traumatic experience. I don't always feel like I'm able to honor Rob with as much story time as I give to big Blake, but perhaps that will come with more years behind us.
So I tell the whole story. How happy we were. How we were on the cusp of many great changes and in a new place. How he died doing what he loved with friends and family who loved him. How pregnant I was and how I managed to survive (I don't remember - or have blocked - much, mercifully). How our son shares his name and was my saving grace and little buddy for years as we prayed together for another saving grace named Robert Alan Bedford, though we weren't aware of that name when we prayed.
And I have Kleenex mini-packs in my purse at all times. They are for me and whomever I'm meeting, tenderly trying to show them "me" while not ruining their day nor minimizing the pain of what God's tenderly brought me through. I've usually used them all up by Christmas, when I seem to meet a fresh batch of people and pop a new pack in, just in time for anniversaries of things, Christmas carols... and avalanche season.
God help me, I just got very, very tired!
2 comments:
Addie, you are lovely and I hope that someday even if through email or something, I get to hear your story and testimony. We always learn so much more that way dont we?!
Here is a snippit of mine:
when I was little I thought if I was good enough, I would get my life story in the bible. i thought there was a new one every few years. And I thought you could only pray while going to the bathroom.
Ha ha!
Yep. I get it.
The fun thing about it is being known as the one who is always "packin'." So when anyone needs a kleenex, I'm your girl. I used to buy the Puffs brand ones that came in a flat package, but they must be discontinued (BOO!) so now I buy Puffs in a square package like the Kleenex brand. They're just "ok." I can't believe that your pack will last you till Christmas. I think even if mine didn't all get given away by then, they would have dirt and little pieces of gum from the bottom of my purse all over them and I would give up on them and start over. So I guess what I come away from this post with is: How do you keep your purse so clean? You're amazing.
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