Checking In

I realize that the last post was a bit of a downer in a way, and even though I really don't have much to write tonight, I wanted to check in just to say that we are doing okay. And I mean okay in the best sense. Okay is quite good enough right now.

The last few days have been rough on my family. I'm not ready to get into the details at the moment, but as I mentioned before, our miscarriage has not been the only thing to grieve in the last two weeks. Right now, it is my brother who is really hurting, and of course, in whatever way we can, we are all hurting with him. Yesterday was an especially significant and difficult day. I thought I was prepared for it, but I was caught off guard by how hard it was to see my oldest brother, in many ways my childhood idol, suffering his own huge loss. I want to take his pain away, make his tomorrows easy and carefree, but I can't. And suddenly, with the burden that these last few days have brought, I feel myself bottoming out: the mental and emotional reserves nearing empty, my physical reserves following close behind. I had hoped to avoid this - I was trying to muster enough strength/energy/positive thoughts/I-don't-even-know-what everyday to keep my brokenness as neat and managed as possible. Yet now I feel my control slipping, and I worry that I am about to come all unraveled. I wonder what coming unraveled will mean in my life as it is to date - as a mother and a pastor's wife, as a new and old friend, and as a daughter and sister in a family that has really had quite enough lately, thank-you-very-much.

Strangely, (or perhaps not-so-strangely considering my Eeyore tendencies) one of my favorite books when I was a child was a rather slow-moving and depressing novel called Izzy, Willy-Nilly by Cynthia Voigt. (Cynthia Voigt is the Newberry Award-winning author of the more well-known Dicey's Song, which I also read as a child but didn't like at all.) In this story, a young girl by the name of Izzy (Isobel) is badly injured in a car accident and is forced to reform her understanding of self and others as she heals from her injuries and adapts to a new and vastly different life. Isobel often pictures a miniature version of herself in her head - and this miniature Izzy acts as an interpreter, both to the reader and perhaps to the main character herself, of Isobel's true emotions. I've always thought this was a very unique and interesting device on the part of the author for communicating information about how her character was feeling/developing without stating it overtly. And anyway, it has always stuck with me.

If there were a miniature Stephanie (ha! a mini-me!) in my head, I'm not sure that she would be doing too well right now. While spiritually I think I'm still holding strong for the most part, as I've stated already, mentally, emotionally, and physically I feel like I'm reaching the bottom of the barrel. Tonight, on the drive home from the city where my brother is still hospitalized, I had a sudden flashback to that story of the miniature Izzy. And in my mind I saw my own little miniature self - the one who I like to think has been shakily standing for the last couple of weeks - now lying bent over on the floor, too tired to even raise her head.

We are doing okay. We really are. And I still believe that one day, perhaps even not so far off, we all will be doing better than okay. I think we will be doing good.

I think we will be good.

But for now, we are okay.