Raw.

I am not allowed to be needy in this country. To be needy is to be weak. And I am supposed to be fierce, independent, strong, and stoic. I am not supposed to need anyone, but be there for everyone. (No, none of you have expected that of me. Just a fact I notice about our culture in general. I seem to expect it of myself at times, though.)

Anyway.

I am supposed to just keep moving.

Fighting. Living. Trying and failing. Getting up. Trying again, persevering. So, I do.

Everyday.

There is nothing brave or special about that. There is simply no choice in the matter. The world does not stop. Ever. It’s perseverance or nothing. There is no in-between, restful place. There just isn’t. Anyone who says there is is selling something.

I don’t know what I need. (And neither do you.)

God – how I miss being certain about small things. The big things are still there, rock solid beneath my faltering feet. Faith. Hope. Love. All still there. Sure and certain. Not much else, though.

In that, a realization:

I am not enough for anyone.

I never will be, because the rich and deep Source of Enough did not make me to be.

Alone in grief.

That’s my mom, more than anyone. Even living with me, she is alone. And there is nothing I can do about it.

Nothing.

And this is not about me, any more. It’s about her. My grief is mine, and hers is hers. They only overlap a little.

Her needs are great. Yet, like me, she cannot necessarily put a name to her needs. So, neither can I. I have no idea how to support her, other than just being present as much as possible. Which never feels like much, I’m sure.

Therefore, I try to wait, and listen, and sit, and cry, and buy flowers, and let her know I support whatever decisions she needs to make. In the midst of my own grief, I’m learning to support hers. It’s hard. Because I am clueless, and I know I am making mistakes left and right. She is just too gracious to call me on it.

She is a good mother. Truly, good.

There is nothing that really helps, though. She has to walk too. On her own spiral. On her own staircase. Entirely unsure of anything except the grace of God.

There is nothing else for us but that.

It must be enough, or He wouldn’t let us exist in this place.

Grace & Peace,
Tiffany

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3 thoughts on “Raw.

  1. Being strong is horribly overrated. We need to be weak once in a while, ask for help and find out that we are not alone in out sadness. I have just started doing this. It takes so much more than it does to put on a strong face and push through. Be weak. Ask for help.

    • I agree, Ann. Thankfully, I have people I can reach out to. Mom has a few, but not very many at the moment. She really needs people to reach out to her right now – and I know you are doing that. THANK YOU. I love you!

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