Eye of the Storm
song: Ryan Stevenson
..mmm, when my hopes and dreams are far from me, and I’m runnin’ out of faith
I see the future I picture slowly fade away
And when the tears of pain and heartache
Are pouring down my face
I find my peace in Jesus’ name..
In the eye of the storm…
These words wash over me, loudly… my kids are playing in the other room, oblivious to me…
I seem to be cleaning, paper towel in hand, windex sprayed across every appliance…. dripping as a silent howl escapes..kneeling in agony..
tears stream down as I become the center of a loss. Physical pain ignored in favor of release of emotional tension.. children can’t be bothered by this. Not their place, not their loss, not them in need of comfort right now.
I pray as the words wash over me that I will find some peace this time. I pull myself together enough to finish wiping down one, move to another, and on to the rest as I try and center myself in the emotional winds whipping me around.
I think, I would have given you roots, given you wings but you’ve taken them and left me, tears and blood streaming…
I’ve been here before, having buried a sibling in freshly frozen ground, wrapped in cotton and plastic.. beneath the tree where we take family photos…. where flowers stubbornly refuse to grow.. where river rock from a sandy creekbed is the only marker.. where I visit, to apologize, to update this lost thing on our lives.
Will I be able to find you in the loss? So small.. how to find you from the trauma being ripped through me.. will you be truly lost? Where will I apologize to you if there’s no body to bury?
The storm rages on, with me as the eye. Calm. Only letting a touch of anger seep through. Grumpy, I’m told this morning. Maybe because I know within me a life has died? Oh how easy the men have it. They accept it and move on.. they never feel the loss as failure. They never have to deal with the hormonal tide, the abiding hunger and nausea still pushing through, leaving anger and frustration in their wake. No body shame, no shame period. No hiding in odd clothing, packing away clothes meant to deal with an expanded body, with a body under siege. They don’t have to feel weak and afraid but bravely pretend that nothing is wrong, presenting a cool, clear front to the world. They don’t have to brace for a stranger’s question, hoping you can contain your pain and tears should the question come. Tears lead to more questions. Just hide, become invisible and then you can avoid the pain. Their path ahead is clear. Try again, or not. Be secretly relieved or not. Never sharing, never saying anything beyond ‘I’m sorry’ in one time frame, never wanting to talk about it again.
No, there is no one in the eye but me.. faith holding, but truth prevailing.. God may be with me in the eye.. but the storm rages on, ripping dreams and plans from me, and I hold you in my organs desperate for your roots to spread and grow, for you to smile and eat and talk back… but *I* will be the only one concerned… as with each trip to the bathroom a grim reality faces my reflection in the mirror.. a toilet full of blood… but I am supposed to just magically put on a smile, and it lasts for a while…
There’s plenty of room here, to grieve, to help me move into acceptance and toward the light.. but is anyone willing to step through the storm to get to me this time? Ignore the angry looks, the exhaustion, and your own needs… and take the battering to find a peace with me in the center…or am I alone again? This is done and gone, and just get over it… as the blood streams and the storm rages on… if you’re not in the eye with me.. leave me alone. Please don’t leave me alone.
I’m so sorry.