Quiet

It's so very quiet today. My parents went to the airport early this morning to return home. It was a wonderful visit and I already miss their presence in the house. Natty misses them too, although I can tell she doesn't exactly know how to express it. The morning was busy cleaning up and almost finishing my second sewing project (much harder than I expected) then going to the packed pool to be totally and completely annoyed by the kids there. There's absolutely no managing of spaces for those of us who would like to swim laps and are paying good money every month to do so. Grrrr... I was reminded as I drove home in a cloud of aggravation of the sermon Scotty preached on Sunday. He used a guy holding a cup of water as an illustration. The cup is our heart and the water is what we fill it up with. Scotty would bump his arm and the water would spill out. He explained that life is going to give us bumps of all kinds and what is stored up in our heart is going to spill out, either blessing those around us with clean water, or getting everything all dirty and yucky with the sewer water that comes out when we haven't spent enough time in the Word and prayer. I was seeing a lot of stinky water coming out today. Anyway...it's quiet now. Scotty is running errands and Natty is napping. I am thinking of Zion. I'm tired of being sad and yet, I know it is necessary. I want to move forward in life, but I'm not sure exactly where I need to go next. I should be involved in community again but I'm pretty sure people aren't too sure how to interact with me, nor I with them. I guess I'm just trying to figure out how to do life now. How do I allow myself to be sad while still spurring myself on to have relationships and get out of the house so I'm not swallowed up by the sadness? How do I express my emotions and share my thoughts without making people uncomfortable? When is it better to just not bring it up? Grief leaves you in this strange, separate state. I was reading lately how a person who is grieving will always do it differently than someone else because we are all unique. You can build community around you to go through the grief with you by sharing your feelings and letting people hurt with you. But, ultimately, you will always do it alone because no one will understand the pain like you do or know exactly what it is like. It's a lonely road. Even Scotty has no idea what I'm going through. Too easily I forget that God knows. He not only knows what it's like to lose a son, He knows me intimately and personally. I need to work on trusting that, even when I'm not sure what to do with it. I need to really believe that God knows what I need and will give that to me.