Overwhelmed

My hands were leaning on the bathroom counter, my head bowed, with tears dripping off my cheeks. I wasn’t praying; I just could not bear to see the reflection in the mirror any longer. I did not want to be here, with my left knee on the scooter and my back still radiating with pain, starting a New Year without Sophia. How do I go another day – another year - with pain, with the deafening silence of a premature empty nest, trying my hardest to muster up enough strength to start another day.

This was too much like before. I was reliving the accident over and over every night when I climbed in bed with ice on my ankle and then recalling the sting of pain as I woke up unable to walk again without shoes. This latest surgery had been only two months ago, and the joys of the holidays and being with the children during that time made the first weeks bearable. Now I was left to suck it up, get dressed and wrap my ankle in that confining brace yet again.

I was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with the pain. Overwhelmed with the heartache. Overwhelmed with daily activities that drain the life out of me.

It was a rough, first full week of work after the holidays with meetings each day to spur the activities that would be taking place this semester. I thrive in a scheduled life, but getting back into the swing of things this time seemed to take much more effort than anticipated.

To end my week, I had lunch with Carolyn. I am extremely thankful to have her in my life, but not thankful for the reason that brought us together. Her daughter Hollie and Sophia were in show choir together and passed away just months apart. We sat down in a booth at a local restaurant, not looking around or paying attention to others enjoying their lunches. We shared our feelings, hurts, tears and it was time for me to head back to work.

The waiter came to our table and informed us someone paid for our meal, and we immediately wanted to know who. We asked for details of the person, but the staff honored the donor’s wishes to remain anonymous.

Did that person know our story? Did he or she know the pain we shared and that while being together never eases the emptiness, we are thankful to have each other to lean on knowing we understand the deep hurt. Tears began to sneak out between our eyelashes as we tried to hide them from the young waiter. We were speechless for a while, gathering our emotions that now come so quickly to the surface. Since we were unaware of our surroundings, we honestly are uncertain who it was that blessed us that day. It may have been a close friend or a person who was obedient to God’s leading and had no idea the struggles we face daily.

I was overwhelmed as I left our eating venue. My tears were on a steady march from my eyes driving back to the office. I recalled what appeared to be little things that happened all during that week, but it was really God’s reminder the He was taking care of me. I was overwhelmed by the acts of kindness shown by others.   

• The two cases of Diet Dr. Pepper in my chair at work from a co-worker
• My yard being cleaned and mowed by husbands of my Bunko babes
• The research my friend did to help me find a counselor who specializes in trauma
• A new washing machine installed since the last one died before Christmas
• Starting a new Bible Study at church about trusting God
• My Bunko babes that were coming over that night to help me take down and pack up my Christmas decorations.

Sometimes we miss the small ways God is taking care of us when life deals us a big blow, like the death of a loved one. Isaiah 41:10 says, “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you; Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.”

Back at work, I sat at my desk with my hands on my keyboard, no mascara to be found, still overwhelmed.

Overwhelmed that each and every day begins and ends without Sophia here with us. But God reminds me – sometimes repeatedly – that He is still the one in control. No matter my heartache, no matter my physical pain, He is a God who can be trusted with my life and my damaged heart.