is how I start most days lately. As the shock has worn off, I’m like a wound with no scab-constantly bruised by the littlest reminders. This morning it was Max being funny and eating his cereal like a dog…it reminded me of the pudding eating contest at the Chocolate Festival that Mercy tried so valiantly to win. I even remember what I wore that day, where we ate, how much fun we had and how much junk we stuffed our faces with. The kids thought they had woken up in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory and their parents had lost their minds!
Yesterday was our first official “school day.” For the first time in 6 years, I didn’t have to clamor about over the din to accomplish even the smallest of tasks.
It. was. awful.
Not the teaching my sweet kiddos part, but the quiet. The deafening quiet that has invaded my days, my home, my children. The sadness on Max’s face every morning when he wakes up to the realization that he’s all alone in his morning ritual of waking Mommy up. His best friend isn’t here to build a lego tower with, be the bad guy or dress up like a superhero…all before the sun rises. His twin isn’t here to jump into the middle of it all and change it all around to her way, all while convincing her brothers it was her idea.
Fall used to be my absolute favorite time of year. The crispness of the air, sweet smells of baking, hours spent planning for Halloween, Nutcracker rehearsals and anticipation, saturday morning Upward football with my littles, the breathtaking colors of the trees and the world around us, filled with the beauty and wonder of God’s creation.
Now I dread the start of everything. Because it’s all a reminder of the memories we won’t make with Mercy and Sammy. The questions I won’t get peppered with, the wonders they won’t point out. The Christmas presents I don’t have to buy, the constant juggling of 5 little people that I no longer have to do.
I beg God to show me His purpose. I beg Him to show me Mercy and Sammy in my dreams. I beg Him to turn back the clock, to give me another chance to be a better wife and mommy and everything else. I simply BEG Him to take this pain away.
For 2 weeks I haven’t journaled to my Creator a single word.
I haven’t been able to find the strength to say much of anything.
I’ve simply begged, I’ve screamed, I’ve cried, I’ve raged so loudly I think they can hear me down the street.
This is NOT SUPPOSED TO BE MY LIFE.
So now I’ll beg God for this.
For the grace to wait on Him, to trust Him, to let Him lead me, to let His words speak to my heart and to the hearts of my beloved husband and children. I’ll pray for the JOY of My Lord to invade my heart. And it’s not the joy you’re thinking of. Joy is far deeper than happiness, happiness is something that I’ll never fully feel again this side of Heaven. But JOY? It’s far deeper than the happiness that we find in our circumstances. Joy is the presence of God within us, contemplation of His plans for our future, and the willingness to let Him lead the way.
My sister just sent this…at just the right moment, to speak His Word into my heart…
Fear not, for I am with you;
be not dismayed,
for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
Isaiah 41:10
Strengthen me, Jesus. I’m just too broken to do any of this without You.
with love,
clan mac mama
We have mutual friends who have shared your blog on social media, and I feel compelled to share that my heart has been breaking for you since I first heard about your family. Unfortunately, it was only after tragedy struck that I learned who "The Clan McCawley" was. Reading the rawness of your pain is hard, yet necessary because it speaks to something so much greater than I can explain with mere words. I endured life shattering pain when my husband died almost 5 1/2 years ago, and reading your words bring me back to that, though it's not the same. All pain and loss are different and are unique unto each person who experiences it. By no means am I comparing our losses, but loss/pain/tragedy I understand. I turned from God for several years and was lost without Him. I see such strength in your writings because even at your weakest you still hold on to Him – even if it feels barely by a thread. I don't know why God has allowed this for you and your family, but I do know that your faith in God during this time is glorifying to Him. I know others – friends, family, and strangers are being inspired by your journey. I pray for comfort for you and that you are granted some relief from the overwhelming pain.