The past few weeks have been hard. Really hard. I’ve learned that I can do brave things though. Really brave- like cleaning out my sweet boys room, touching and smelling all of this things, moving things that felt like they should just be glued to the ground forever. It has sapped me of every ounce of strength. And as much as I would like it to be over, it’s not.
I am in the middle.
Brené Brown shares, “We like recovery stories to move quickly through the dark so we can get to the sweeping redemptive ending.”
I get to choose how this story plays out. I have to live this, and feel my way through every step of this story so that I can “write my own brave ending.” So here I am, on the floor, exhausted from the fight, breathing in life and hope and strength in this place called “rest.”
It was 5 years ago this very month, that we painted his room, and bought his crib and changing table. We set it up and couldn’t wait for him to come home. It would be 6 more months until his homecoming.
When he finally came home, he came with extras. Machines to keep him alive.
For 3 years of his almost 4 years, this was his room- a room full of life and hope and joy and laughter. Two weeks ago every thing was moved out, the carpet was torn up, and we walked across stained plywood knowing what caused each stain: water stains from sloppy sponge baths in the same spot on the floor, formula stains below his feeding pump, and g-tube leak spots where he played.
And so we begin to bring in peace and light, as we create a sacred space for healing, a “Peace Room.”
And it is hard.
But it is good.
And we are weak.
Yet we are brave.
And we love him, oh how we love him.
The woodwork and the walls, with the exception of the mural wall, have been painted white. Tomorrow we lay the flooring, an new foundation for life in this room. And as we slowly create this space, this “Peace Room”, as a place for our family to heal, I’m feeling our story shift and our brave hearts grow even more brave.
This is what #oncomingalive looks like. It is not an easy, breezy, dance-through-the-flowers kind of thing. Coming Alive involves big, brave choices to pursue hope and healing with wholeheartedness, even when it hurts. It doesn’t mean grief ends. Because, oh how my heart has grieved these past two weeks. It simply means simply that we take a deep breath of hope and open our hearts to healing.
And as I said in my first #oncomingalive piece,
“As this new life comes in, as this joy appears, it does not replace the human soul that is missing from my life. It does, however, create a true connection to everything about him that was (and still is) pure beauty and joy.
So I choose to come alive again because love is stronger than death.
And forever, I love this boy.”
And so we have chosen to create this “Peace Room” as a place for healing. A room for prayer and mediation, writing, creating art and music, a place for rest.
And we continue to breathe it all in, because of the boy who taught us all how to breathe in the first place.