There are times when the building blocks we've so carefully assembled in our lives are shaken apart.
Some things, obviously, will shake them completely down to ruins. Major traumas like the death of a loved one, or a divorce, for example. Others will be like a one-hit explosion that takes out a few blocks but leaves the majority intact.
I feel like I've been through both recently.
As the "blitz" season, as we call it at work, came to a close I dealt with the death of my Grandmother.
That was followed by an intense shaking this last week with my husband's illness. He developed a severe infection after a tooth extraction. He experienced intense pain and swelling on one side of his face. To treat it he had to visit the hospital every eight hours to get IV treatments of antibiotics.
It took several days before we saw any improvement.
Due to the illness, the painkillers and sleep that was often interrupted by yet another trip the emergency room, he slept an awful lot.
Which meant much of everything in the day-to-day happenings of our lives were up to me.
I managed as a single mother for less than a week and I was pretty much exhausted. (How women do it on a regular basis is beyond my comprehension... and ability apparently!) In addition to the normal pressures of my fast-paced life, my son had a major school project I needed to help him with.
School homework is a major source of conflict for both of us, so the fact that we could even finish it at all without screaming at each other was a major accomplishment.
Friday came, hubby was released from his IV therapy and able to care for the kids as I went to bed at 8:30.
I slept for almost 12 hours.
When I awoke I felt like I'd just gone to bed. Then the tears started. I found the instructions for the school project and discovered we'd pretty much done the whole thing wrong. Then I found several unexpected bills.
I felt like the whole world had just crashed. I felt like such a failure. I crawled back into bed and slept off and on for most of the day. I cried a lot, too.
After a day of sleeping, a nice hot shower, and another good night's rest the world looked a better place.
Then my dad called to give me the news that his dad had passed away last night after a lengthy illness. While relieved his father isn't in pain or discomfort any longer, he's grieving the big gaping hole left by this beloved father and husband.
I found myself in tears again, for a grandfather I'd never met, for the grandmother I dearly loved and for a week that stressed all of us to the endth degree. It was like the darkness became palpable.
"It's too much," I told God. "Too much of everything."
But after a few more tears, it was like God put his arm around me and whispered... "It's all gonna be alright. Even this will pass. Tomorrow will come at last."
In addition, I realized after some very gentle, but stern self-talk that my psych prof would be so proud of! Grief takes it toll both physically, emotionally, and spiritually. And the healing takes time. Time, of course, takes patience.
Healing doesn't happen in a moment. It's like rebuilding after a massive storm. It takes time. The debris has to be cleared. The holes mended and boarded up. New building materials assembled and slowly eased into place. The building blocks rearranged.
The best part is, we have the Master Carpenter working with us. Swinging the hammer long after we've lost the strength. Wiping the tears away when we think we've messed up beyond all grace.
We are truly blessed. The foundation my grandmother gave me continues to give me strength. I had many friends step up to the plate this week to help us out in ways that were invaluable!
And above all I had a Saviour waiting for the storm to pass, rolling up his sleeves ready to rebuild.
Looks like we'll be at it for a while.
