Just a Mom Like You

Four weeks. That’s how long my daddy’s been in heaven.

Why is it that these days time isn’t measured by the date on the calendar? I don’t even know what date today is, actually. I’m pretty sure it’s sometime in April. Yes, yes, it’s definitely April because the taxes are due sometime soon. And I know it’s Tuesday because daddy died on a Tuesday and now Tuesdays are forever burned into my brain as the day of death.

Wednesdays are the days I remember picking out the casket and the flowers. The flowers that still sit on my kitchen table. They’re almost dead now too. Almost. But I hold on to them not wanting to throw them out quite yet.

I count Fridays as well. It’s hard to believe that in a few more days it will be four Fridays since we put him in the ground. It feels like it was just yesterday.

I want it to be just yesterday. I long for time to stand still. I hate the fact that my daddy’s been dead for a month. The thought of moving forward covers me with a sense of dread. I haven’t even turned the page on my inspirational desk calendar yet. Like a child with a band-aid on her arm, I know that someday I’ve got to rip it off, but the fear of the pain of doing so keeps me clinging on. I know the longer I let it go, the more the fear grows irrational, but I can’t seem give in.

Somehow it seems so wrong to move forward without him. Like I’m betraying him by going on with living when he isn’t here any longer. Every little task becomes monumental.

I know that time is supposed to heal things, but I can’t seem to embrace time.

But then I am reminded of the words of the Bible. The very words I read aloud at his funeral. There is a time for everything. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to weep and a time to laugh. A time to mourn and a time to dance.

So I pray. I pray with all my might. The truths of the Bible race through my mind. A perfect world. Do not eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil lest you die. Sin. Death. Jesus’ resurrection. I go to prepare a place for you.

Lord, give me peace.

It’s a simple prayer, but it’s all I can manage. It’s all I need. I’ll never understand why my daddy died of cancer. I’ll never understand why my cousin’s baby died at just 88 days old. I’ll never understand why my first husband took his own life. I’ll never understand why Jesus had to die on the cross. There are so many things that I’ll never understand while I’m here on earth. And that’s okay. God never promised that we’d understand any of it. But He did promise to give us peace if we ask Him for it.

So I ask.

Lord, give me peace. I pray as I turn the pages on my desk calendar.

Lord, give me peace. I repeat the words as I discard the mostly dead flowers on my kitchen table.

Lord, give me peace. Peace to get through the day. The hour. The next five minutes.

And He does.

 

 

 

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7