I'm camped out on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, computer in my lap, purring cat nearby, and Jane Austen in the DVD player. Aaaaaah...
Today I took a load of stuff to the thrift shop. Included in that load was the bag of maternity clothes that I have had stashed up in the attic for the past seven years.
I haven't been able to let them go until now, hoping that I would have a need to wear them again. But I've been thinking for a while that I was ready to pass them on to someone else, so today I threw them in the car with the other stuff and drove to the thrift store. I was fine until I started to climb into the car after dropping them off, and I saw the man grab the bag and carry it into the store. And then, out of nowhere, the tears came.
Why is it, do you think, that grief is like that? You think that you've conquered it, and then, whoops, there it is again. And why is it, that when you surrender something to God, you find yourself having to surrender it again and again?
I'm fine, really. I was just surprised by my reaction. I've shed a few additional tears this afternoon, but all is well.
Of course, I would be thrilled if I should suddenly find the need to go shopping for replacement maternity clothes...
1 comment:
What do I say to a daughter who is walking a very rough road? Words fail me. I do want you to know that I am in awe of the person you have been and are becoming through all of the heartaches, emotional roller coaster rides, disappointments and joys of the past seven years. And if you should ever have to shop for maternity clothes again, please invite me.
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