As you know I woke up to snow blanketing the ground again. Seriously? It’s the end of March. Did you forget that whole March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb? Isn’t that in the scriptures? Or are the lamb and the lion just lying down together having a tete a tete in my backyard? I need Spring. I need to feel the pussy willows between my fingers and watch the lawn change to green. The sprigs on the lilac bushes are filled with the promise of my face buried in the coming flowers. Right now I am tired of being in limbo and quite frankly, let’s just get this seasonal change over with.
Remember God, my son leaves home in less than five months. He, like the leaves waiting to uncurl, feels like he is in statis. All the energy is pent up waiting to burst into glorious adulthood. I have worked through most of the grief that comes from separating (that no one really told me would be happening) and I too am anxious for him to start this new part of his life. What will manhood look like on him? Will he carry those burdens as well as his father? You promised that you would take care of him when he is not with me. I’m holding you to it. We are drumming our fingertips waiting for the day when we pack his suitcases.
Guess what, Lord? I think I’m making the “change.” I’m easily bothered, cranky, and cannot seem to regulate my temperature. My children wonder why I am so easily upset. I cannot eat the same foods as I used to. I feel like I’m always in a state of panic. I feel like there is always somewhere I am supposed to be, but I can never remember where that somewhere is. I have cravings. I get cramps like a teenage girl. My skin flakes off. I want to sleep in the nude every night. How long will this last before I feel like myself again? How long until the change is final?
Do you see me visiting with my grandmother in the care center? She is ninety-six years old and all of the six teeth she had left got pulled out last week. We thought you would call her home two months ago when she went into the hospital, unresponsive and full of infection, but you didn’t. You are making her wait. Her children are slowly selling off all of her books and collectibles because they think you will come and get her soon, but you don’t. Her brown eyes do not recognize me when I come into the room. Sometimes she does not know I am there and I will watch her for a full minute in the silence of the room. She looks anxiously at the wall like it might burst open as the gates of heaven, beckoning for her to enter. She too, is waiting for you to come in all your glory, just like I am waiting for Spring –just like I am waiting for the seasons to change.
With love and in patience,
What would you say to God today?