Digging Into… Boring

Preggo-brain has left me without creativity or gumption.  I want to write, but there are no words.  I feel the fatigue.  I feel the coming and going of waves of nausea.  I feel the ambivelent passion of the first trimester (baby?  what baby?  PLEASE don’t let anything happen to my BABY!).  I feel the ever-present spectre of grief (no it hasn’t gone away yet, and I don’t expect that it will).  I feel delight in the new discoveries Little Miss makes.  I feel exhaustion over how to figure out the part of the puzzle called discipline as she tests her boundries further.  I feel the constant presence of housework that never seems to get done.

I feel all these things all the time.  And the thing is, they don’t make for great writing.

I say that this blog is about my trying to dig deep into the holy ordinary…  but do I really try to do that?  Surely God can be found in all of these mundanities…  Surely he can…  But it’s been so long since I’ve let my brain consistently hone in on the place where I’m aware of that.  When I stub my toe on His holiness these days it is purely by accident.

(But then it always is.  It is always by His grace that we ever have an ‘aha’ moment or a taste of ‘getting it a little.’  Everyting, really, is grace.)

I remember asking my father the month before our wedding, as we were getting ready for my Grandfather’s funeral, if life would always be like this–always straddling big, huge, sad, and terrible, and wonderful things–and many at once.  He told me no.  He told me that there would be stretches of boring. 

In the tumultuous first three years of our marriage–settling into the Navy, dealing with loss after loss after loss, having Carolyn, doing the first deployment–I didn’t believe Dad.  I didn’t believe the boring would ever come.  And often I prayed for it.

And now maybe it’s here…  But I am afraid to think so because it seems that would only be asking for another catastrophe.  And I am not grateful for it… because rather than enjoying the serenely quiet landscape, I often play over and over the tumult.  I focus on the now, I move forward with my daughter–but part of me is always in a room with my Mom not seeing me, her spirit hovering–her essence stuck, waiting….  and then, later, hearing a knock on my bedroom door and the words, “She’s gone.”

Part of me is there, and part of me is here learning to navigate this new way of life after grief sweeps things over.  Learning to live in this home with our family.   Learning what it feels like when life is just quiet.  Just is.  Is about Husband’s work, and Carolyn’s achievements, and my crazy hormones, and feeling feelings I didn’t have time to look at when the tumult was happening.

And it’s strange. 

I need to let it be enough.  I need to dig in here.  I need to breathe deep.  And…  I need to allow myself to feel it all without guilt, and know that it is part of this season.

I’m trying.

(And I just really do have to confess that I did want to use the word ‘tumult’ as many times as I could…  because it is a good word.)


2 thoughts on “Digging Into… Boring

  1. you’re not boring, and I was wondering why you hadn’t posted lately. Thanks for the update. I completely feel your sense of tumult (there’s one more usage)…when things were slow for Eric and I after his transplant, we were definitely in the “Wait for the other shoe to drop” mode instead of the “wow, let’s enjoy the tranquility of the mundane.”

    I hope that you feel better soon. Are you going to find out whether the baby is a boy or girl? I know you have a while to go yet before one can tell, but if you find out, let me know!!

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