Thursday, April 9, 2015

Finding Joy in the Hard Times

Well, so much for feeling like I was coming out of my emotional pit.

All those tears? That feeling of being compressed and pushed down?

Yeah, there back.

I woke up fine. Felt good.  Even chipper, I'd dare say.

But.... the day continued.

By mid-morning, I was reading Facebook and listening to the kiddos play.  I skimmed over a few posts from the new groups I'm following on 'parent's of children with type 1 diabetes.'

That's when it started coming back.

The sadness.

The tears.

The feeling of being swallowed in that emotional pit, again.

I tried to blame the groups - the posts I was reading.

Techno reminded me that I needed to feel these feelings. I needed to deal with my sadness in my own way.

Yes, hearing other moms' struggles; hearing of situations we've not yet faced; reading of conflicts brought on BY diabetes; all that MAY have played a part in triggering the tears again, but.... in reality.... it was just life.

It was grief.

Grief doesn't just one day 'up and leave'.  It's funny that way - it lingers, holds on.

It's there.  In the background.  In the foreground.  In the middle ground.

It's.     All.     Around.

I went to the store for groceries and the kids Easter stuff.

I stood in the 'candy aisle' looking at all the Easter candy options.

I wanted to cry.

I'm pretty sure if no one else had been standing in that aisle, I would have broken down in tears.

I picked up bag after bag of candy. Checking the labels.  Looking at the amount of carbs per serving.  Placing MOST bags back on the shelves with a sigh.

The sadness was deep.

Such a simple task - picking out candy - had become a monumental feat, it seemed.

But... in the end... I discovered that one of her favorite candies - Smarties - only had 6 carbs for a WHOLE roll.


That's HUGE!

She could have a whole tube of one of her favorite treats.

So.... even though it was stressful. Tearful.  I learned something good. Something fun for Selah.

I continue to be sad.  To grieve.

However, I will also continue to force myself to see the good.  To feel the joy.

As someone mentioned; yes, this is a hard diagnosis.  A terrible life altering disease. But.... we still have Selah with us.  Her life continues.  There's joy in that alone.

Yes, the sadness will hit.  Yes, the tears may fall.  Yet, joy will permeate if I allow it.  If I focus on it.

Selah can still have a wonderful life ahead of her.

A life filled with purpose.

A life full of joy.

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