Well, here we are again…in
conflict…with ourselves. Awesome.
I’m going to paint with some
fairly large brush strokes here so please stick with me to the end.
One of the struggles a
grieving person has are with the many gifts received. I’m seriously practicing the Lamaze breathing
as I type these words because of how awful that sounds. Didn’t use it in
childbirth, but it feels right for this.
Now, before I go any further
here, please don’t think we’ve tossed any of your thoughtful gifts out the back
door. This is also not to say that I’m dreading receiving any new gifts that
some wonderful friends have been promising. That has not happened in any way,
but there are some things I haven’t had the internal fortitude to fully
appreciate as of yet.
Gifts are another common issue
for those that have experienced deep heartache but are too ashamed to admit. I
have to say…it sounds so ungrateful and selfish. I hear ya.
But here’s the conflict…we SO
appreciate the thoughtfulness and sheer love that prompts people to give said
gifts. No joke. Deeply moved, kind of appreciation. But the reality is, it
takes much more time to appreciate the gift as much as the giver.
I’m really not sure if it’s
because of the reminder of WHY we received the gift…or if…well, yea…that’s it.
As a matter of fact, as we
were recently talking with someone who’d lost a child, they said sheepishly, “If they
ever drain the pond behind our house, there’s gonna be big trouble because that
thing is full of every kind of thing you could imagine! We just couldn’t handle looking at
it all.” Well, we haven’t tossed
anything…and we won't…but we also haven't soaked it all in yet either.
Interestingly enough, gifts we received while Zoe was still fighting for her life in the hospital are especially dear to me. For example, our dear friend, Miss Candy, gave Zoe a heart necklace representative of the new heart she was getting. We hung it on her hospital bed during her stay, and now it hangs around her big sister, Dre Dre's, neck almost daily. She did get a new heart, and this necklace is a great reminder. Candy also gave me a necklace that day that said "Believe," in order to remind me to have faith that God would heal Zoe. I also wear that almost daily, but now I'm reminded to trust and believe that God's plans are higher and better than my ways.
On the flip side, I can't seem to part with some things that are seemingly nonsense. One hospital day, we got some Chinese takeout for dinner. You can probably guess where I'm going with this…it's almost embarrassing. My fortune cookie that day contained the following message:
"You will find complete contentment by summer's end."
Well, even though I don't put stock in the reliability of FORTUNES, I couldn't bring myself to throw it away. I put it on my bathroom mirror as a reminder to keep looking forward to the future and not get overwhelmed in the scary moments. Honest to goodness, on the last day of summer, I cried as I read it. It's still there. I figure it didn't specify WHAT summer's end…so…yea…it's still there. Don't judge. Told you it was embarrassing.
SO…to wrap this up…obviously I love and appreciate the thoughtful gifts friends and family have given us in remembrance of Zoe, FAR more than nonsense fortune cookies…and yet…what can I say?!? Nobody has accused me of thinking…or feeling…straight even before Zoe's death. Shocker.
Some of the best advice I could give in this area would be to continue to give from your heart, expecting nothing in return. Please understand that it may take some extra time to process even the sweetest offering.
One such message and gift came by mail. It was a book from a new friend…one I've never met face-to-face…one who adopted her heart baby from China. He also did not survive his surgery. Heavy sigh. His sweet Momma wrote about their experience, and she sent me her book with a note attached.
"You may not be prepared to read this yet, but I wanted you to have it whenever you are ready to do so. Praying for your family."
Honestly, I sat down with the book and was only able to get through the first 2 pages before I had to put it down. I still haven't been able to open it again…but I know it's there…and I truly look forward to reading it all one day.
Does this make sense to you? I sure hope so. I guess part of me wants you to understand, among other things, why I haven't even been able to sit down and write out the thank you notes from Zoe's funeral. I feel the added weight of guilt for that, but the weight of sorrow is greater.
What's even greater? The incredible people who have given so much of themselves to our hurting family. We are most grateful for them…and are so very blessed to have each one of them in our lives. Please just remember that. We hold these relationships most dear…and it is that which we will treasure always.
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