Wednesday, March 16, 2016
I've learned in the last 3 years grief changes. It no longer defines my daily routine or thinking process. I am no longer constantly consumed with thoughts of the what ifs, whys or hows of the situation. I have a freedom from that and yet I never go a day without thinking of him.
A couple of weeks ago it was one thing after the other. Nick had been sick with the flu, Ana had drainage, Ava and I were fine, but we both are the ones with the most on the schedule and then she got strep/flu. So, overall it has been me, being single mom, while Nick is sick, and we have a ton to do. I am capable of doing it all, but I rarely have to do everything for 2 kids, plus him, myself as well as work. (shout out to all single moms/dads out there... I am humbled by your constant energy and efforts) Long story short, I took the girls to my parents' house on a Monday afternoon so I could deep clean the house and try to get a handle on germ killing. I found myself out at the cemetery after dropping them off. It was just me, 2 special graves and a Texas sunset (oh and a cold wind)... but it was exactly what my soul needed. I sat there after cleaning up the area of old flowers, trash, etc. I just sat there, I guess like I would have if Noah and I were playing on the floor. I have never been one to talk to those who have died. I just never felt the need or connection in that way. For some reason I just needed to talk to him though. I realized I was no longer grieving the loss of a baby, but of a little boy I'll never know. We have this sweet new baby in our home and even though she will never completely fill a hole that Noah left behind, she has brought so much joy to our home and our hearts. I realized that I was missing out on how he would be bugging his big sister, loving on his little sister, running us all ragged and loving it. I sat there and just breathed in the quiet, telling him how proud of him we would always be and that his big sister doesn't go many days without saying his name, praying that he is happy in heaven or wishing he was here to play with. He is missed, forever loved and cherished.
So, dancing. I'm the last person in the world that you want to see dance or even try to dance. Yep. I cannot do it. The songs like "I hope you dance" "I would have missed the dance" etc are sweet and endearing but never made sense to me. I just don't dance or connect to the word dance. So when the song by Amanda Cook played for the first time, I heard the lyric "You taught my feet to dance upon disappointment and I, I will worship". I was struck so heavily by those words.
Noah's death was a disappointment in my life for a long time. It hurt that I wasn't answered the way I wanted to be. I was struggling to make sense of what life was, then turned into and finally what it would ever become again. So to dance upon disappointment? What does that mean and how does that look in my circumstance? I realized that anytime I donate tabs to the Ronald McDonald house in honor of Noah, I'm dancing. When I lead worship I'm dancing. When I tickle my big girl til she cries laughing so hard, I'm dancing. When we bought our home in 2014 I was dancing. When I got my job at FLC I was dancing. Sometimes dancing for me looks like getting out of bed and facing a hard day. Sometimes dancing upon my disappointment looks like being around moms with baby boys the first few months after we got home. Play dates were terribly hard, but I did it for Ava and I endured, therefore I danced. Dancing is when we make a trip down to Ft Worth, but it is also snuggling up on the couch and watching Ninja Turtles on a Friday night with pizza and cookies. Dancing in my life is not always being happy nor is it a sign of perfection or bliss. Dancing is doing life. Dancing is not letting his death destroy every good thing in my life. It is letting his death enrich my life by doing life better, with more intention, simplifying, saying no sometimes, creating moments of connection instead of disconnection. Dancing upon disappointment.
This past weekend while introducing a new song to our FLC family I was given a clear visual of the bridge that states "I'll hold on to you and you'll hold on to me". It's a beautiful line and I immediately had a picture in my mind. Nick and Ava were dancing at a wedding last weekend and it was so beautiful to see Ava glowing and having a ball with her daddy! Nick was swaying her and looking at her so sweetly as she danced with him. This moment between them reminded me that our relationship with Christ is that way. He is dancing with us and we trust him to not let us fall, he leads us even when we step on his toes and as we dance we are safe, happy and all together wrapped in the moment of just him and us. We know that life is not always happy, safe, fun or sweet like a dance. Happiness isn't guaranteed but, he promises he will lead us and not forsake us, ever.
What's more beautiful than dancing upon disappointment? That the one whom we tend to blame and get upset at during the disappointment is the one who is holding our hands and loving on us during the dance. So, trust Him in your life through your worship. Worshiping isn't just singing. Dancing isn't just for weddings. Dance in the daily details, worship in the toughest moments. Just don't give up. Dance through the adventures and the seasons of life. I promise that if you don't let go of WHO God is and WHAT he has done for you, you will see blessing and even joy again in your life!