A Year Ago

Oh TimeHop – you either love it or hate it. The other day the above memory popped up on my Facebook and I found myself quickly overwhelmed by the memories of so many feelings that I had a year ago. I have been quietly counting down until June 13 this year, the day that the tumor was discovered, and I have been torn in how we celebrate/commemorate/recognize the day. I’m still undecided, do you celebrate the day because you got a loved one back? It seems odd to celebrate the fact that someone had a brain tumor. Maybe we celebrate June 19 instead, the day the tumor was removed. I know that there isn’t a right or wrong way to doing it, I just want to do it in a way to help myself, the kids and Kevin continue the emotional and relational trajectory that we have been on. In all honestly, it’s mostly for me – not for Kevin and not for the kids (I’m not convinced that they even remember everything that happened a year ago).

The above memory popped up and I remember how much I wanted to pretend that I was really making the best out of everything happening during Covid. The truth is, I made this post in an attempt to try to convince myself that life was going to be okay. The truth is, when I made this post I was full of loneliness and terrified about what the future held for myself, my marriage, my children and my life. The truth is, my outlook was bleak. We were in the midst of a pandemic, emergency furloughs, marriage counseling, awkward dates with my husband, isolation from our friends and kids at home with us full time.

I remember when I told the kids that we were going to have the best summer ever. I wanted to shelter them from so many of the different feelings and emotions that I was experiencing. I wanted to shelter them from the world around us, both personally and the society that we lived in that felt like it was falling apart every single day. I wanted to protect them from so many of the unknowns, the what if this, what if that, now what’s. For the most part – I think I succeeded.

So one year ago Nana and I took the kids to the most peaceful place on earth. A hidden part of Pottawatomie County where you can’t hear the highways or see the roads. A place where only the birds can find you. A place where you can hear the wind blowing through the grass, the frogs talking on the banks and the excitement of the kids squealing (or their mom) when they have a fish on their line. A place where your cell phone doesn’t have service. A place where you can clear your mind and talk to God. A place where you know that God can hear you because all of the other noises of life can’t reach you.

For a small moment in the midst of so many unknowns and chaos, my world was okay that day. Little did we know what one week later would bring…..