grace Archives - Leah Stirewalt

There…I said it. I. Feel. Judged. After another long hiatus from this little community, I don’t want my first post back to be one that sounds negative. It’s just what’s on my heart right now, and I find I write more authentically from the heart. Maybe that’s why I haven’t written in awhile…just too hard to compose “feelings” into words sometimes. But, I’ve been thinking (could be dangerous, at times), and some of those thoughts are coming out via the keyboard.

I’ve been feeling judged lately. Nobody has said that, in essence, but actions (or lack thereof) speak loudly sometimes. As a I told my dear friend recently, “I know I haven’t been the best daughter, friend, family member, blogger (and I implied any other relationship I might have missed the mark with), and I’m truly sorry.” I just stink at it…a lot.

I could “blame” it on a lot, according to many.

You had a crappy childhood; you’ve been widowed twice; you’re solo parenting four adopted kiddos (all of whom have a special need component that we deal with daily); you have a lot on your plate with day-to-day living, in general. And the list goes on…

The truth of the matter? I’m a sinner, saved by grace. Right now, a LOT of grace is being poured out on me. If people want me to feel judged, they’ve succeeded. However, most of the judgment I feel, I heap on myself, and I don’t even need anyone else to do that for me.

I feel I fail most days. I feel defeated quite often. I keep trying and trying and trying and often feel I take two steps forward and three back. And…then are the good days. Aaaahhh…the good days keep me sane. They are balm to my weary soul. Sometimes a good day is simply getting the kids to school on time. Seriously. I keep backing up the time our mornings begin, but with four ADHD kiddos, each new morning brings a new set of chaotic challenges. I’ve thought many times of dressing them for school the night before simply to eliminate that element of it. (There…I admitted it.)

I’m truthfully ashamed, most days, at the disorganized mess my life has become at times. For those that “knew me when”…I am a recovering perfectionist with high OCD tendencies. Nothing was ever out of place. I would have never entertained the thought of filing a tax return extension. I was NEVER late. I filed receipts weekly (not once a year – another current confessional). I crafted all the time. I read lots of books, and I do mean lots. I never missed sending out a thank you note and certainly didn’t miss mailing out Christmas cards. My car was always clean (at least on the inside). I communicated with people frequently (yes…even before email and Facebook).

Now? I don’t think I need to spell it out. It hurts to be at a place in life where I sometimes don’t even recognize myself. However, I am also grateful for the “new me”.

The new Leah has experienced abounding grace, and I feel I pour it out more abundantly than I ever did before. I used to be what many might consider judgmental, but now…I see people for who they are and where they are in life. I simply love people now. Now, don’t get me wrong…I don’t like bullies (and, they can come in all shapes and forms), but I love people.
The new Leah understands failure and accepts it (even though painful at times) when it arrives at my doorstep once again.
The new Leah has learned to say “no” to what doesn’t fit into my life, as it exists now. That was something I’ve always struggled to do in the past, but I’m getting better at it.
The new Leah recognizes all that’s been done for me and my family and is thankful for it beyond words…even, if I can’t reciprocate it appropriately.
The new Leah realizes she might not be a Type A personality anymore (by default) and has embraced (not always willingly) her new Type B+ personality.

But, there is one area in which I’ve never changed. I don’t accept the role of “victim”. I will not use my life experiences as a reason for self-pity. I have been given much, and to whom much is given, much is also required (Luke 12:48 reference). Sometimes, the requirement is great sacrifice. But, I’m thankful God feels me worthy to walk the road of sacrifice quite often. And, I’m thankful He’s continuing to change me and mold me into someone He can use. He is my ultimate judge, and to Him I owe my life (even if it is messy much of the time).

As I vividly remember from my first widow journey, those immediate twelve months following the passing of a loved one is full of “firsts”. The first Christmas without him, the first Valentine’s Day, anniversary, Thanksgiving, etc. Sunday was my first Easter without my beloved Joel. It was, let’s just say…an interesting day. I’ll try to put it into words, but honestly…I’m not sure I totally can.

It started out a little rough on Saturday night with me setting out the Easter baskets for the kids. I was so upset, as they were the puniest Easter baskets I’d ever put together. Had it not been for a friend who sent the kids some little gifts in the mail, specifically for their baskets, they would have been even punier. It was virtually impossible for me to get out and shop while trying to recover from three foot surgeries. I went out Friday to one store for less than 30 minutes after getting my stitches out and grabbed what I could. The pain was horrendous in that short amount of time.

Then the Easter clothes. What Easter clothes? I would have loved to doll them up for the “official” first outfit of spring that typically coincides with Easter. They would have loved their new clothes. Instead, I dug in their closet to try to find something that would work and shoes that would still fit (that was the bigger dilemma).

I also planned to do an Easter egg hunt for the kids on Saturday before my adult daughter had to leave to go back to school, but I had her busy doing so many other things while she was home, and I never got around to asking her to fill the eggs with some sort of goody, let alone hide them in preparation for the hunt. I’m simply not ambulatory enough to do that right now.

A friend picked up the egg coloring kits for me, because I was determined to at least do that with the children. Guest what? That didn’t happen either, because I forgot to get the eggs to boil, and by the time I remembered…it was too late.

So, Easter hadn’t even arrived yet, and I was already feeling quite down over the fact I felt like a holiday mom “failure” – puny baskets, no new Easter outfits, no egg coloring, and no egg hunt.

Then comes Sunday…

Much like THE Resurrection Day over 2000 years ago, God’s grace rained down on me!

The kids woke up and found the baskets and were elated with what the “Easter bunny” brought them. They acted like every little thing they pulled out of their baskets was the best thing ever. Thank you God for your amazing grace!

We went to High Point (about an hour and a half away) to spend the holiday with my in-laws. We had a wonderful church service, followed by a delicious lunch, and then…my mother-in-law planned an Easter egg hunt for the kids!!! Another act of God’s grace. They still got to hunt eggs and had a blast!

Now…for the interesting part…I struggled emotionally all day. I didn’t want to have a meltdown and ruin everybody’s holiday. So, I worked really hard at controlling my emotions. In doing so, I essentially felt numb virtually all day. No tears. For that, I was thankful, but it was simply odd. I felt like I simply “floated” through the day. I went through the motions of the day, but that was just it. I couldn’t “feel”. It was a very hard day, and yet…my emotions were in “lockdown” in a way.

My mother-in-law gave me a HUGE gift by offering to keep the children for three days of their spring break (they’ll be home later today). So, when it was time for me to leave for the day to head home, I left alone. And when straight to the cemetery. My MIL told me the marker arrived the week before, and I wanted to see it, and I hadn’t been to the cemetery since the day we buried Joel’s earthly body. It was long-overdue for me, especially considering I was there every single day after my last husband died (but, Joel isn’t buried in the same town in which I live now).

I drove towards the cemetery, expecting to have a meltdown when I got there and saw his beautiful marker. I was so pleased to see it, however. It looked just as beautiful as I had hoped. I took lots of pictures…of his marker (our marker)…the raised area where his casket was buried but the ground is still settling, and the area beside him where mine will one day go.

His daddy is buried right above him, and his mother has a plot there too. It’s a beautiful cemetery with a precious pond just below Joel’s spot. Before going any further…I know Joel’s spirit is already with the Lord…it happened the moment he took his final breath in this life and entered the next. The cemetery is mostly for those of us left behind, but I also want to have a place set aside for him that brings me comfort, and this place does.

Surprisingly…the “numbness” continued. No tears. I talked a little, but no tears! I felt there was a load of them ready to unleash, but I didn’t know when. For whatever reason, it wasn’t then. I stayed for a little while, and then got back in my car and headed back home.

After I finally settled in for the night…ready to read, listen to worship and praise music, elevate my leg all over again…I felt only one thing “nothingness”. I hated that feeling. I was in a perfect place to grave, and I felt an unleashing of grief tears was just upon me. And…I felt they would come soon, especially since I was along. But they didn’t. I simply went to bed. And a new day began, but it was MUCH, MUCH different. Stay tuned…