So I have been pondering about a few things lately. I have a friend who had her son pass away at 17 months old. He would be Belinda's age now. About a week after the flood hit our house in September, I sat next to her in church. I was having a hard day and started crying, she put her arm around me and let me cry. In my mind I was thinking about all those times when people are or have gone through something worse and don't like to hear about others complain (for example: no one who is struggling with infertility likes to hear pregnant women complain about how uncomfortable they are, or how sick they are feeling). I immediately didn't want her to feel that I was trying to have a pity party for myself and so I said to her, "I know this is nothing compared to what you have been through." She didn't say anything, but kept her arm around me until the lesson began and I didn't think much about it after that. Well, a couple nights ago we were having a discussion with a few other ladies and she told me that one of the hardest parts about her trial is that anytime she tries to help or comfort someone else, they immediately shut her down by saying that she has gone through something worse. She then used the situation with me as an example. I'm so glad she did, because it has given me a lot to ponder and think about. She made it clear that this is something that everyone does with her. For the rest of us, it is probably because we truly can't imagine going through what she has gone through. It's every mother's worst nightmare. And I'm sure that not every mother who has lost a child feels the same as my friend does. I'm sure a lot of it has to do with what stage they happen to be in in the grieving process, but it has given me a new perspective.
I have not just thought of this in relation to my friend, but in relation to my own trials. I'm beginning to realize that I haven't allowed myself to grieve over this trial properly, because I have built a bubble around myself and shut others out. I don't want to have a pity party over "stuff" because thankfully no lives were lost and besides, other people, including myself have been through worse things than having your belongings and yard destroyed. I'm starting to see that we all need to allow ourselves to grieve over different trials in our lives without comparing them to other trials you've experienced and without comparing them to other people's trials. We should also allow ourselves to comfort those that stand in need of comfort regardless of how big or small the trial may seem in our eyes.
I was also reading a blog post recently on how to comfort those who have lost a child, but I found it applicable for many situations as well and I could relate to a few of the feelings expressed in her post. She said that when someone is going through the shock of the trial that it is hard to know what people can do for you or what you need. She also said that it is helpful when people give you choices (option A or option B). She said that sometimes the amount of love and service given is so overwhelming that you have a hard time adequately expressing your gratitude and honestly can't remember everyone you should be grateful to. She also said it is helpful when people ask leading questions about how you're feeling (leading questions are different than just open ended questions). These are a few of the feelings that I can relate with. The day after our flood, the main question that was asked of me by what seemed like hundreds of people was, "What can I do to help?" As soon as they found out that I was the owner of the home they would ask me this question and tell me how sorry they were. I honestly had a hard time being there that day because it was so overwhelming. I had no idea what people could do to help and I didn't want to be in charge. I knew I needed help, but had no idea how to direct people to help me. I think Randy felt the same way and so when people were asking him this question, he'd send them my way and visa versa. I feel so grateful especially to the people who took the initiative and just did what they saw needed to be done. I remember even showing up a day or so later at my house and a sister from the Stake was mopping my muddy floor because she saw that it was a mess inside. I think she ended up mopping my floor twice in a row. She just found something to clean and did it. There were so many people like this. We showed up one day and we had a new mailbox. People volunteered so much time and resources to help our family. We feel so eternally grateful.
Those first few weeks we felt like we were in a daze. We were having a hard time feeling like we could live a normal life. The day we moved back into our house was very overwhelming. Alvin kept throwing things down the stairs and unpacking what I was trying to put away. My sweet and angelic neighbor (who also was hit by the mudslide) saw us moving in and came over to help me unpack even though she wasn't staying at her house yet either. She also watched our kids for me so that I would have time to get through a few boxes even though she was still swimming in boxes at her own house. She is so Christlike and such a good friend.
We feel so grateful to so many people that we are having a hard time fully being able to express to them how we feel. And we are overwhelmed by the amount of gratitude that we owe people. We are sorry for being a little postponed in our thanks. Just know we love you all.
Going back to what I was saying before about grieving. I am a little unsure how to respond to people now with the questions and comments that they make. The questions are, "How is your house?" "Are you back to normal?" "How are you guys doing?" "What else do you need?" and one of the comments that confuses me the most is, "your yard is looking good." First of all, when people ask about the house, it is doing a lot better than when it was filled with 8ft. of mud, so it's good. Second, when you ask if we are back to normal, yes we feel that we have a normal schedule again (which is what I interpret that people are asking me), but if you are wondering if we feel our lives are the way that they once were, then no we won't feel like that till we can send our kids in the back yard to pick raspberries and play and ride their bikes during the summer and sled in the winter, and until all we have to worry about is mowing the lawn and picking weeds. And until we feel safe when it rains to go downstairs. Third, when you ask us how we are doing, that depends on the day and how much you really want to know (which I assume isn't much). If you "compare" where we are now to where we were then, of course we're going to be good, right? Fourth, when you ask us what we "need," the answer is nothing. We don't really "need" siding on our house or grass in our yard or paint on our wall or couches or toys or books or .... the needs have been taken care of now. We have new windows, water heater, and furnace and railing for our stairs. So wants are all that's left. It's kind of hard to answer that question. Lastly, when you tell me that the yard is looking good, I know you're comparing it to what it looked like when it was covered in a layer of thick mud, but I can guarantee that you wouldn't be happy if you had that patch of bumpy, hard, splotchy grass in your yard. And I assume you haven't even looked at the side or back yard if you are telling me my yard looks good. There still isn't grass in those places and the dirt is treacherous to walk through because you'll probably trip and fall if you're not watching closely. My kids will occasionally come in from outside and tell me they found a random toy covered in mud which they usually have to throw away. It's a bit of a treasure hunt out there. I mostly live inside (now that it's getting cold it works out) and I didn't open my blinds for the first little while, because it's a little sad to look at what it looks like out there. I sometimes like to hide behind a good book and live in a fantasy world. I realize it's time for me to snap out of it. Don't get me wrong we're still functional. We're enjoying homeschool, and we do get things accomplished, but I feel a little like I'm holding my breath about the things we lost because I should be grateful about the things we have. I am. I just don't think anyone really wants to hear about what I miss. They only want to know about what I'm grateful for. I think it's annoying for people to keep hearing me say, "I used to have that." So I mostly keep my mouth shut. But I think I need to allow myself to mourn over what the new normal is for me and not compare it to what the first week of the mudslide looked like. Because anything is better than that.
If you actually read through this entire post, you must be a true friend. Good job! Take a deep breath...I'm done.
