Don't Cry. Don't Cry. I Cry Anyway

I don't want to write today, tomorrow, or the following few days because I don't want to feel what I am feeling. They, my thoughts and feelings, are slowly clawing their way out of my subconsciousness, and making their way into the light. So I must deal them with before they overcome me.

I must once again battle sadness, anger, disappointment, resentment, and who know what else. I thought the old emotions were gone, but they were merely resting in some hidden place, gathering strength for this onslaught. When the battle is over, the enemy will once more be defeated, but, in the meantime, tears keep trying to force their way though my tightly closed eyelids.

Don't cry, I tell myself. Don't cry. Leave the past in the past. Your healing has been good. Your scars are fading and your pain is almost gone. You memories are of the good times, not the bad. Just forget the upcoming event. Don't go there, Jan. Don't go there. Take those thoughts captive. But I go there anyway. And I cry.

I go back to that day in 1964 when my husband and I were married.  I go back to the birth of three children. I go back to fun picnics and adventurous camping trips, band concerts and track meets. I go back to Christmas pageants and youth choirs, kids' weddings, grandchildren and holidays.  I go back to those good days. I can't help it even though I feel tears coming. I guess the Lord has some unfinished business for me to deal with.

Get over it, I say. But it, the unmentioned, stares me in the face and breathes down my neck making itself impossible to ignore. "50th Wedding Anniversary," it yells at me. "50th Wedding Anniversary is my name." I plug my ears to those words. I don't want to hear them.  I want only to wipe away any past dreams I might have had--dreams of a joyous celebration with family and friends. My parents and grandparents had 50th celebrations, but for me there won't me any cake or dancing. I want to erase fantasy dreams of an Alaskan cruise or a trip to the British Isles with my husband. We had dreamed about them, talked about them, but never got to plan them. There will be no shipboard dinners, calving icebergs, or bagpipes. Nothing.

There will be nothing except my husband sitting in his jail cell, dealing with his own thoughts, and me sitting at home with my thoughts--each of us fighting off  sadness over losses that cannot be regained. And if the phone rings I will answer it with a cheery "hello" as if I hadn't a care in the world in spite of wet lashes and damp cheeks.

If I really look at my situation, I don't really have any cares. God has them all carefully cradled in his hands.He has provided for me in every situation. My kids and grand-kids have blessed me. Any tears I cry should be tears of joy, not disappointment. That is so easy to say, but difficult to do.

"Lord, I confess that anger and resentment toward my husband and his deeds still arise at times. I confess I feel sorry for myself at other times. Forgive me.  Let me forgive my husband ( it is an ongoing process) as you forgive me and have forgiven him. Let me love him as you love each of us.

"Let me celebrate what you have given me, and not wish for what I don't have.

"And Lord, help me through these next few days. When I cry may my tears be tears not of regret, loss, or resentment, but rather tears of thankfulness, praise, and awe."

I must add, I won't be alone. My kids, grand-kids, and I are getting together for a short weekend of food, games and good times.

Thank you, Lord.

Defeating the enemy by praising God and proclaiming Christ's victory,
Jan