Its been a rough two days. It felt like I had taken two steps back, into the grief I thought I was leaving behind. On Ash Wednesday after work, I met Richard at church. After mass, we received the ashes. And as our priest crossed my forehead with ashes he looked me in the eyes and said, "Remember, Man is dust, and unto dust you shall return." Listening to that one short sentence reminded me that life is to short. And that I should not spend the rest of my life beating myself up for what I should've done or said differently. On my way out of church I pick up a card that said "the ashes symbolize penance and contrition, they are also a reminder that God is gracious and merciful to those who call on Him with repentant hearts. His Divine mercy is of utmost importance during the season of Lent, and the Church calls on us to seek that mercy during the entire Lenten season with reflection, prayer, and penance." I tucked the card in my purse. When I got home, I read it again. Its amazing how when I need it the most, the church has a way of hitting a soft spot in my heart.
God is gracious and merciful to those that call on Him and we should seek mercy this Lenten season with prayer & reflection...
The two weeks I spent in the hospital with Erik, we prayed that whatever God's plan was for us we we'd accept. After our son died, I told God that I accepted that Erik was gone, but begged Him every day to please send us the strength and peace to continue living. At times I felt like I was going to die from my deeply broken heart, I've never hurt so bad before in my life. As time passed I began to seek strength in myself and my husband. Our family and friends reached out the best they knew how and embraced us. Although no one truly understood the depth of our pain and I can't really expect anyone to unless they've given birth and have had to hold their dying child in their arms. Since Richard and I really didn't have a decision to make for our son's life, because Erik didn't have a survival rate, the decision was already made for us. So I began to try to pick up the pieces from our shatter lives and gather peace from the short but sweet memories and pictures of my son. It still hurts that I can not see my son everyday, like little Amillia's parents can. But I know the day that I DO see my precious baby boy again, I will look him in the eyes and tell him that his daddy and I love him so much we put his life in God's hands. We did all that we could physically, medically and spiritually, and there are no regrets. And hope that in my son's eyes, and in God's eyes they both see that Richard and I have tried to be the best parents to we could to Erik, during and after his short life.
So this Lenten season, I am going to try to be less hard on myself. I'd like to think I treat my body kindly with all the resting, and pampering I do for myself. But inside, I'm a wreck. I am so hard on myself. I take the little failures in life and over-analyze them to somehow make things out to always be MY fault. Not everything in life is controllable. And its hard for me to accept and believe it, but I know some things are just out of our hands, and in His hands.
( Oh, and... I gave up chocolate for Lent. )
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