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When did we start hiding the way we feel, and how did we get so good at it?

Motherhood and honesty

Our middle son, Ryan, was an accident waiting to happen. He was on a first-name basis with the physicians in the Emergency Room. About the third visit that particular month, the ER doctor shook his head and said, “I don’t believe I have ever seen anyone so banged up being that close to the ground.” Ryan had decided to go on a skateboard downhill on his knees. He got up plenty of speed, flying along, when his shoestring caught in a wheel and the crash was one to behold.

As mothers, we hear the screams. Before we even get to our child, we know pain is involved. On our way, we work to put on our ‘You’ll be fine’ face. (I’ve found that daddies are usually much better making that statement with conviction than we are, to our irritation.)

With one look, we take inventory: “blood – check, broken bone, by the look of that already swelling wrist – check, lip busted but teeth in place – check.

But what do we do? Like all good mothers, we swallow several times, try to slow our rapidly beating heart, grab them up, and say, “It’s alright. You will be fine. You’re such a tough guy.”

For their protection and well-being, for their sake…we hid our emotion of fear.

Honesty in Grief

When did grief overtake your life?

Was it with a diagnosis? Did grief find its way into your life, your heart, with a conversation that included words like terminal, “We’ll try this”, or “We’ve done all we can”?

Or like me, one minute your world was good. We celebrated life on a Saturday, and on Sunday morning, in an instant, everything changed with one last heartbeat.

And we became good at hiding our grief…to protect those around us.

And only in privacy, behind the walls of our home, will we allow ourselves to feel and express our grief.

We keep ourselves in check at all times.

For the sake of other shoppers at the grocery store, we don’t fall to the ground weeping as we watch husbands shopping with their wives. (A whole new meaning to “Clean up on Aisle 4.”)

Answering a phone call, we make sure our voices don’t relay what our hearts are feeling.

We get good at answering the question, “How are you doing?” with a firm, “I’m fine.” And if for some reason, we tell the truth, we go home and worry that we shouldn’t have said so much.

My Heart’s Desire in this Season of My Grief

As the Lord brings others across my path, as they watch me, I want them to know…

God is good all the time.

• His grace is sufficient. (II Corinthians 12:9)
• His faithfulness is my shield and rampart. (Psalm 91:4b)
• He restores my soul, and He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. (Psalm 23:3)

For His Name’s sake, I want to represent Him well.

It might not always be pretty, and there may be times when sorrow overwhelms us and we are just lonesome for our husbands and Heaven, but we know there is a day coming when God Himself will wipe away all our tears and there will be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, nor pain … ever again.

“From Heaven the Lord looks down and sees all mankind; from His dwelling place He watches all who live on earth. –He who forms the hearts of all, who considers everything they do.”
Psalm 33:13-15 (NIV)

Our Heavenly Father, please help us to represent You well. We pray that we will walk honestly with other widows as we heal together in this journey. May Your light and hope be seen in us always. Amen