The other night I went grocery shopping. I was exhausted, but I went at night so I could go without the kids. I made it through the trip really quickly and got into line.
The cashier was a young girl. It said on her name tag she was in her first year there. There was one problem after another.... she needed a few different voids and help with codes. The managers were rolling their eyes at her and getting frustrated with her. At one point I could tell she was going to cry. She moved her hair towards her face to hide a little.
One of the times when she flipped on her light and he gave her a "what now" look, I spoke up and said "It's not her fault this time, it's yours" (one of the items wouldn't ring up) and tried to make a joke about it... but they are pretty serious about their jobs over there at the Market and he didn't find my humor... nor let up on her.
I felt so bad for her. "It's okay, no worries, I don't care. You are doing great and you get paid the same amount whether you are stressed out or not, so don't sweat it" I told her.
"Yeah, it's just easier when they aren't mad at me" she said as she looked around and then joked that she would buy them candy after to make them like her again.
I walked out, after being checked out for 25 minutes....
As soon as the cool air outside hit my face, my eyes filled with tears.
I'm never going to get to hear about Rachel's stressful nights at her first job.
It never ceases to amaze me how unpredictable grief is. I'm not sure who decided it was a condition that lasted for a year and then went away. But in my experience, it's been more about moments than a constant condition. It's been more about the times when I realize that other little thing I will miss....not about sitting around for years in tears. It's been more about wanting to have the chance to speak into my daughter's life as she grows then it is about her dying.
And I guess that's why 'seeing her again in heaven' doesn't usually work at curbing those pains.... because in heaven, none of this will matter - but here.... here I would be able to be something to her that I won't be there. Her Mama... the one who calms her fears, protects her, listens to her, and cheers her on to be something great and to follow God.
I want to hear about her stressful nights at her first job, her troubles with friends, her love for her children. I want to be there to answer the phone when she needs to talk.... when she is excited about meeting the man she thinks she will marry and to help her get her hair just right to walk down the isle.
And I know that's all selfish because I would never be enough for her. She would always need God more than me. And I would always be directing her exactly that way. So, why can't I just be thankful and rejoice that she already has Him fully?
I don't know. I just want to be her Mama.
On August 4, 2010 our hearts broke as we heard the Dr. say "she has anencephaly...these babies don't live" at our 19 wk ultrasound. The Dr. is wrong. Our precious daughter's time on earth may be short, but she will live for eternity with our Lord in heaven. During the few months we have her here with us, we intend to make the most of every second of it. Our hope is that she will leave behind more than a few short memories, but that she will leave a legacy of what it means to hope in Jesus.
*Sigh*
ReplyDeleteHugs and much love and prayers, anja
So beautifully put. I've tried to explain this to people but never quite had the words. We didn't just lose a baby, we lost a whole lifetime of watching them grow and seeing who they become.
ReplyDeleteLove and hugs and prayers