Tents and Angels

My Tent is small, but it's big enough for me.  It's warm and dark.  It's quiet and somber.  It is my hiding place.


Sometimes, when I'm there I only visit for a few hours.  Other times, like as of late, I can stay for days, or weeks, or months at a time.  This camping trip was only for a few weeks.  While I'm there, sometimes, my friends come and peek inside and check in on me.  Sometimes, they check in and then let me be and just be me.  Sometimes, they drag me out.  Sometimes, they come in and sit with me and stay for a while.  Then, sometimes, like today, God sends His angels inside.  They gently take me by the hand and speak God's loving words to me and gently open the flaps of my tent and lead me outside.  They don't drag me out into the bright sunlight.  No, they understand that inside my tent it's dark and coming outside, the sun shines blindingly.  They stand with me outside of the tent and let my eyes slowly adjust to the light, all the while, never letting go of my hands.  They continue to walk with me and then, when I can see, they let go of my hands, but they are always beside me.

I like to live in my head.  I like it there, b/c it's a happy place.  I like to pretend that everything is okay.  And, sometimes in my pretending, it spills over to real life.  I act like I'm okay.  I tell people "I'm fine.  I'm good".  When in all actuality, I am not.  These last few weeks I've spent curled up in the fetal position in my tent crying a million tears, with a million more to come.  The loss of Mema has been so profound that there are no words to explain.  There is nothing to compare it too.  One of my favorite times of the year, the Christmas season, actually blew chunks this year.  I didn't feel any Christmas Spirit, only great loss.  My poor, amazing husband has been at a loss at how to help.  "Tell me what I can do." he says.  But I tell him there is nothing he can do.  "Give me something to fix for you, except for Mema, I can't fix that."  And, I tell him that I'm alright, that I will be alright.  That's it's just Mema.  And, maybe someday I'll be okay.  He remembers.  He remembers how hard his mom's death was for me.  How still, four years later, I still have moments of grief.  Mema.  Well, it's only been six months.  So far, she's missed my birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas and in February, her birthday.  But I digress, I was talking about my tent.


Last week, God sent His angels to keep watch over me.  Then today, He sent me another one.  They are telling me it is time.  That my loss, as deep and profound as it is, is okay.  They prayed with me.  They gave me scripture.  They spoke great words of love. Words that make me uncomfortable to hear.  The one angel looked right through my soul and described to me why they know I'll go to heaven.  The angel used many adjetives to describe me.  Good ones.  Ones that surprised me.  But how they saw me.  Funny thing is, I'd rather hear the not so good stuff, that's easier to believe.  Which is why I know God sent this particular angel to me today.  So here I stand, outside my tent.  Still depressed, still crying sporadically, but standing with the angels nonetheless.

So, bear with me as I slowly begin walking again.  I'll be okay, I'm walking with my angels.

Until next time,
Give someone a hug.  You never know how bad they need it.

Love,
Me