For the next several hours, I was pacing the floor in a panicked frenzy, shouting those words over and over. Sometimes they came out firmly and sternly as if I was an issuing a command that this simply would not do! Other times they came out in wails as if to say, please don't let this be true!
A million things flashed through my mind, I knew I had to get back to Missouri quickly, and I knew taking our six adopted children with us was not an option. At the time they were ages, 8, 7, 6, 4, 4, and 2. Within about 30 minutes I gathered my wits long enough to call on the help of our Sunday School class, and a close friend. With very little help from me, they managed to organize who would stay with the kids each night we were gone, who would bring meals, and who would get them to school and to scheduled doctor's appointments. They were there at a critical time of need and shall never be forgotten. Someone called our pastor who was in our home within a couple of hours having prayer with us. My husband made flight arrangements during these few hours. I remember the deep grief that kept welling up inside of me and the deep, long sobs that were inconsolable. Packing for the trip seemed to take forever and sleep would not come that night.
I want to hit the pause button and say this to those who are grieving. People mean well, but in times of our deepest grief very often their words fall on ears that simply cannot hear. Don't feel bad if you are in the "cannot hear it" stage. It's part of the process. If you are someone who is trying to console another who is experiencing loss, remember that sometimes a hug, and an "I love you" is all you need to say or do. And prayer? That's the best! It's what carries us through!
And remember this, there will be "Sunshine After the Storm!"
Blessings,
Betsy
P.S. I welcome your comments!
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