Tuesday, May 6, 2014

making piles of stones

i am waiting to feel again.

there have been so many things happening this past month that are hard for me, that i guess i've just turned my emotions off. as if there were a switch on the back of my head. click.
it's apparently a coping mechanism, but i don't much like it. because i feel paralyzed from doing much of anything.
i know what i should be feeling and sometimes i do manage to cry. like last night on the couch. my husband, rubbing my feet said, i liked this sunday. our long walk and the picnic in the front. 

i know. it was so good. 

and as i said it, it was like a reluctant acknowledgement i had been needing to feel but refusing nonetheless. if i'm not crying, then there's nothing to cry about. so i won't.
but there it was in front of me in his words hanging in the air: this yard isn't going to be our yard for much longer.

i thought about the people of the bible and how they made piles of stones to mark important places where God showed up. where they marked important events. a lot of times where God turned mourning into joy.
 Set up road markers for yourself;
make yourself guideposts;
consider well the highway,
the road by which you went. (jeremiah 31)

i thought about this house being just one of the mile markers of God's goodness. and how i will think of it as our very own tangible place of piled stones that tell us to remember when God did this good thing for us. we can drive down this street and say, remember?
hope and sadness all mixed up. i'm sure the isrealites felt that way too. leaving a place they've loved deeply, and going on an unknown journey. 

and then my thoughts get sucked back down to earth and couch because there's more. there's always more. working out hard things in marriage that don't resolve overnight. not little fights, real hurts begging to be talked about one more time after the kids go to bed. one more, that really hurt me. and i don't know how to put it away from my thoughts. 
there's leaving lila's incredible preschool. i have a strange attachment to any and all workers at this place. they've made us feel so loved and so special. and what will her new school be like?
there's leaving our incredible church in the city to begin a new one in the suburbs. the church where we have both cried in, yelled in, stormed out of, ran into, dedicated our children, regained new life through hearing the gospel preached every sunday from that pulpit on that awful red carpet. will our new church be like this was for us?

but i do try so hard to put all of that away. i think, maybe for a better time when i'm more able to press into them and fight with them and maybe, just maybe, push through them. i know though, there's never a good time to face sadness. as if grief waits around for perfect timing. like death, it shows up when it wants to and asks no one permission to enter.

it's a strange sort of sadness when life is being uprooted completely around you and you're still in the ground just watching. and i'm not sure what to do with it. for now i'll just write it down. little piles of stones made with words that i can revisit later. and laugh that God has done a better thing than i could have imagined. it has always happened this way.

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side note! my talk from hope spoken is up for purchase if you're interested. it's called, the story of redemption. all proceeds will fund next year's conference.

18 comments:

  1. just sending strength to you in this transition -- we also moved recently (last summer), giving up a beautiful house for different priorities, and though it has been hard, there has also been much learning. the old house was the one in which we were married, welcomed our daughter, navigated our way through my cancer, became a family. the new house is the one in which my girls are cultivating an amazing relationship, in which we have neighbors to share meals, schools we are looking forward to attending, and a kitchen to renovate, which boy o boy is a lot of learning! since I read only sporadically, I don't know all that you are carrying in your not-crying, but I know you will travel through this one step at a time.

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    1. step by step is so good. i like to go leap by leap and sprint by sprint. so this slow is probably good for me in so many ways. thanks for your encouragement. glad to know people have done this before and made it out alive! ha.

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  2. You're a big, brave dog. (Rugrats quote that my husband has to repeat to me.) I hate change, so I can totally understand. I've just loved all my life, so it's hard to ever walk away from any part of it, even if you're walking towards something that may be better. Love you, Jami Nato.

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    1. yes! i always think in cartoon quotes too. even if i'm walking towards something that may be better... thank you for that sweet phrase. encouraging.

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  3. beautiful post; powerful and raw, a great combination!

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  4. Thank you for processing and grieving, and sharing it here. Transition does, without meaning to, force us to "survive" at times. Sometimes I find myself feeling guilty about that--just not quite being able to "feel" it all as I want. But God is good to us in those moments, and He creates ways for us to grieve that we can manage. It's funny you mentioned this about stones. Next week I will be traveling up north to grieve and process my kiddos I'm also leaving...and was planning to choose stones for each one, as a symbol, and then leave them there for the Lord to care for. Isn't it so sweet of God to give us Christians across the county, grieving together over various changes, yet clinging to the same verse, the same God. xoxo

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    1. hey. that made me feel something! i sort of cried reading that. i think it's really beautiful the way you care for those children and turn them over to God to now care for in this new place.

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  5. hugs sweet friend.

    change is so hard....and it can be really, really draining. your outlook is slowly morphing - and allow yourself to feel, to really process each and every moment - even if the feeling is "numb". <3 you have no idea how much i needed to read this too. while i may not be moving...i'm still struggling with some of the same thoughts.

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    1. yes. numb. sometimes just that. i've had little bits and pieces of feelings here and there so i'm thankful they aren't completely gone! thanks for your sweet words.

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  6. I love this Jami. One of our pastors preached on memorial stones a few years ago and it is never far from my thoughts. I sometimes dream of grabbing actual rocks or pieces of those places or events (maybe something from your house?) and marking them as a reminder of just how faithful God has been. We're moving too and I'm feeling some of these same thoughts. Excited to see where your new adventure takes you!

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    1. yes! i totally thought of snagging a big rock from the yard and bringing it to the new place. :) hope you do the same.

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  7. We've done this too, Jami! I know uprooted. But you'll be okay. Just know that you'll be okay!! *hugs*

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  8. Oh this makes my heart hurt with you! I never ever liked to move, even as a child. I can remember lying in my bedroom when we moved at 15 and just sobbing on the floor. My mom came to tell me it was time to go, and I wanted to stay in that empty room. All the memories. Praying for you and your family as you transition. I read this verse this morning, and it seems fitting: "This is God, our God forever and ever. He will guide us forever." Ps 48:14

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  9. i hate change too. hate. even when i don't like the situation i'm in, i'll still cling to what i know like it's the wooden door and i'm rose (sorry jack). silly me. i never quite learn. you once wrote me (briefly a few years ago. stranger/friend emails when i was walking a similar path as you) to not trust my emotions and instead full on sprint to the rock that never changes. those words stuck deep stranger/friend. praying the God of all peace comforts your heart today and every day as he leads you to new waters.

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  10. I really needed to hear that. Thank you so much!

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  11. We were here in December too. And we had no idea where we would be living, even down to the last couple weeks. During all of this I had another surprise miscarriage. We went from uncertainty and anxiety to joy and surprise to grief and uncertainty within a matter of a week.

    Christmas was hard. But I chose to put off my unbelief and anger and put on praise and faith. Yes, there were many silent tears and heart wrenched prayers, but we came out with a deeper faith and understanding of His unwavering love.

    And now we are in a wonderfully suited home and I am 3 months along with our fifth child. It is good to honor the season we are in. But you are right, it is also vital that we remember His faithfulness to go above and beyond all that we could ever hope for or expect.

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    1. betsi!!!! that is so freaking exciting!! and thanks for your encouragement. i will remember his goodness today.

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