Where there is no counsel, the people fall; But in the multitude of counselors there is safety.
Last night as James and I talked, I told him how much I really miss both my mom and dad. Dad's wisdom for the family is unreplaced, and Mom is no longer able to give guidance. When I think about it, perhaps the easiest thing in the past three years was letting go of Dad. It put a knot in my stomach, took away all my desire to eat, and left me weeping in the dark of night, but I knew what I had to do. I had to let my dad go. It was his time.
If I grew spiritually by leaps and bounds in the months preceding Dad's illness, the months following left me feeling unprepared and faced with a multitude of unanswered questions. It also found me leaving the church I had come to love and trying to fit into another. Perhaps part of the plan is to eventually come to trust the pastor and his wife as the new spiritual counselors in our life, but can I bare my heart to them, and why do I find myself so reluctant to trust them with it?
Our family issues have not miraculously disappeared, and although I have been accused of backbiting and attempting to garner sympathy for my cause, the truth is that I honestly don't want anyone to think ill of any member of my family. This is why I long so for my dad. He loved us all, and I believe he loved us all the same. An outsider always comes into a situation with a little bit of prejudice, a bit of sympathy for the party with which they are familiar, or maybe the one who knows best how to use words. I am not a winner of debates, but neither do I want to see my own child be the loser. I only want him to see how much he is hurting not only us and other family members, but himself as well.
It's a new year and the last go around has me looking to retreat. I have said and done everything I know to say and do. I've told him I love him, but I am tired and I am done playing the game. I choose to walk away and pray that God and time will work in all of our hearts to bring about the healing we all so desperately need. I can't live my life on a pendulum and I shouldn't have to.
There have been tears, of course, because that is how a momma's heart works, but I will be okay. There is so much to look forward to this year and I can not let myself be ambushed by grief and/or pity. God still reigns. He still loves both of us more than either of us know, and I can still pray. There is always prayer.