A Blanket, a Song, a Baby, and a Friend...

Since June, I've been on a race. I've been trying to outrun grief. 

Sure, there are moments when I let myself cry and wallow around in self-pity, but other times I try to move onward, knowing my mother wouldn't want me to mourn for her. She is where she is supposed to be.

So, how do you outrun grief? The answer is you don't. But if you busy yourself enough, you will falsely believe you've won the race and have dodged grief. If you've ever played dodge ball in PE, you know when you're "safe" because you're not hit by the ball, it's quite a feat. The same goes with grief--You know you're safe for a while, but the next game, or the next crazy hit and the sting of the ball will remind you how very real and raw your grief is.

I've filled my life with church, work, children, grandchildren, "Wheel of Fortune," and Aggie Football (a season which felt like a wheel of misfortune). I've been busy working on a book, and eating healthy-ish, and planning for a trip next year. But last Sunday, I hit a wall. A powerful. Hard. Unforgiving wall. I was stopped in my tracks.

Yep. The A&M game had a great deal to do with it. As long as their season continued, I had another week to outrun my grief. Once it ended I was left without a focus, without something to do each and every Saturday. I was sad, frustrated, and wondered "why does it always end this way?"

Then I got on social media where everyone is talking about the other team in the state that beat us. However, many of the comments are about the Aggies, and are extremely negative. If people would just support their team rather than bash other teams, it would be much more bearable. But, sadly some people enjoy the feeling of being on top too much--it's easy to laugh at and/or mock someone else when you're sitting pretty. Just remember, what goes up, must come down, so choose your words, actions, and posts wisely. 

I'll now get off my high-horse.

The major reason for my current situation and sadness is the holiday season. I thought I had it licked. I sailed through Thanksgiving, but three days later, I found myself in a hole I couldn't dig out of, nor did I want to. I felt safe and warm there; no one could get to me. 

Again. You can't outrun grief, or hide in a hole. 

So as others prepare for the holidays, decorating their homes, and trees, and wrapping presents, and sending out cards, I am a spectator. I don't want to do it. From the decorations, to the songs, to the gifts, to the cards--my mom is everywhere. She's a part of all my Christmas memories.

I should find comfort in that, but it's all too fresh. The memories turn into thoughts of my mother and how very much I miss her. The phone calls. The holiday planning. Her thoughts on current events. Sharing things with her about my children and grandchildren. She's everywhere, yet she's nowhere. In my mind, I know she's in the most wondrous place, but I still miss her. Every. Single. Day. 

This morning, I read a devotional and it talked about the Graciousness of God. When I read this, I paused:  "Asking for God to be gracious is invoking His favor--which is a blessing so extensive it can't be measured." 

In the last six months, I have asked God for many things, but not once have I asked Him to be gracious to me. Maybe I feel I don't deserve grace. Maybe I feel selfish asking for His favor, and for immeasurable blessings. 

I pondered this all the way to work. In fact, in my mind I thought of the song, "The Blessing." It kept entering my mind, and the word gracious was on repeat.

"The Lord bless you and keep you,
Make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you.
The Lord turn His face toward you,
And give you peace."

As I was hearing this song in my head, something happened. It can't be called a coincidence. It can't be called anything but God hearing my thoughts.

The very next song on the radio after the "make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you" line played in my head was...

"The Blessing."

I can't deny what happened. It was powerful, and real, and a reminder I am never alone. The Lord is with me all the time. And He is also gracious, and gives me peace.

I burst into tears, overwhelmed with the realization--I can't outrun grief, but I can run to God. He hears my cries and knows my heart.

I pulled in the parking lot, and tried to pull myself together. I was overjoyed, overwhelmed, overblessed. 

I'm usually the first or second person in the building every morning. This morning, I had barely walked in my office, and hadn't even turned on the lights, when I heard a tap on the door.

There was a sweet friend who handed me this (I actually put it in a frame I had in my office).

When I read it, I started crying. I told my friend how I had been struggling, and how much this meant to me. She then asked me to consider writing a children's book. She felt it was something I could do that could help children, since I'm familiar with issues kids deal with these days. I was surprised and honored at the same time.

I replied that I didn't know what to write about. She continued to encourage me, and as the morning passed, I have come up with an idea. 

I'm so thankful for a God who listens to prayers and sends angels disguised as friends. He is on time every time, and He is gracious, and His blessings are immeasurable.

I've been sitting on this other story for several months, but thought it was appropriate to share now. It's another blessing, and it came from my Gracious God. He gave me a special moment and reminder of my mother.

Last year, my mother kept talking about the need to crochet another baby blanket. She was known through the years for always knitting afghans, or crocheting blankets for every occasion. She knitted several blankets for my children and for my grandchildren.

She mentioned several times that she felt she really needed to crochet a baby blanket, in case there was another baby, and in case she wasn't around when that baby arrived.

I shushed her, and told her I didn't want to think about that.

In the days after her funeral, I was cleaning out her closet, and in the back corner, I spied a laundry basket. It was filled with something I couldn't quite make out. When I pulled it closer, I saw a crocheted blanket in yellows, purples, blues, and pinks...It was a baby blanket and was complete, except for one panel that needs to be attached. Underneath the blanket, were the extra skeins of yarn.

I grabbed the blanket and decided to take it to my daughter-in-law. She can crochet, and I thought she could attach that panel, and then keep it for Cooper and Harper.

Not long after that discovery, Charles and Kaitlyn stopped by to share some news. 

They are expecting a baby at the end of April, or early May. 

When I heard this, I began to cry. Charles and Kaitlyn didn't know about the blanket. 

On that day, the Lord blessed me, and made His face shine upon me. 

Again, none of this is coincidence. It is all a part of the plan.

The Lord truly is near to the broken-hearted. He shows up in all kinds of ways, and just when you think you can outrun grief, he reminds you to slow down. To not forget. To remember. 

And He always finds a way to connect us to those who have gone ahead of us.

I'm so thankful He did this for me with a blanket, a song, a baby, and friend.