Series part 2

     After our house flooded, my husband and I worked very hard to rebuild it exactly he way we wanted it. We meticulously chose the flooring, countertops, and colors on the walls because, in our minds, this was the long term look of the house.

    During what I thought was a time of rebuilding, my husband dropped a bomb on me that caused my entire world to collapse. Then, my house (that looked more like a construction site), became a place that I grew closest to the Lord. He met me, in the middle of the night, at a 6 foot folding table when I was shattered. It was where I first learned the meaning of the phrase, "peace that passes all understanding." 

    While the physical rebuilding of our house was happening, so was the rebuilding of our family. There were open, honest, and difficult conversations that happened. Trust and forgiveness needed to be rebuilt. There were awkward moments that needed to be navigated. A lot of restless, sleepless nights happened. But, we found our way through it. And, after a lot of time and tears (and counseling), we had reached a point where our family was in a good, healthy place. My husband and I were looking forward to this next chapter of our lives as our children entered young adulthood. We were learning how to be "just us" again while also brining our kids' significant others in to our family. We were creating new memories and it finally felt like there was healing and finality from tragedy. Until the bottom fell out again.

    It has taken me the past 2 months to even begin to wrap my head around all of the events that took place, as well as even to try to put my feelings in to words. The first few weeks were so overwhelming for so many reasons, the biggest of which being the amazing community support that we were shown and the love that we were given. I have never experienced anything like it in my entire life. And, honestly, that love and support has been what has helped sustain me through having to deal with my own grief and loss.

    I realize that it may sound funny to say that I'm grieving a house. A lot of people will say that it's "just a house" or "things can be replaced" or "God has something better for you." And, while those things may be true, and I would not trade the lives of any of my family members for anything, I still need to grieve.

    I needed to grieve this home that my husband and I worked so hard to buy, to provide a roof over our heads and a place of safety for our children, as well as other people we loved. I needed to grieve all of the happy memories that took place there. I needed to grieve the live that my husband and I had planned to have in that home over the forseeable future. I needed to grieve that my kids will never be able to bring their kids to that home and say "I remember Christmases here"' or "I remember taking prom pictures here."' As my friend put it, it was like a broken fairy tale. My happily ever after, as I had written it, was gone. No explanation, no rhyme or reason, and no time to stop it, just gone.

    I also needed to process my anger with this whole thing. I mean, God was in the process from the beginning. We had people come and pray over he house when we bought it, when we were rebuilding after the flooding, and I can't tell you how many times I walked around that house with oil, praying and annointing everything I could get my hands on. I walked the property and prayed. I didn't understand how something that was so God ordained could just fall apart like this. I wondered what I did wrong or how I could have prayed differently to make this situation any better or prevented this tragedy.

    Internally, I felt like I had failed because I was unable to protect my children from these tragedies, or prevent the tragedies from happening. Intellectually I know that I had nothing to do with them, but mom guilt is not rational. There was a lot of untangling of thoughts and feelings that I needed to do, and a lot of praying that needed to happen. After not dealing with pain and loss for so long only to have it blow up in my face, I knew that this was a pain I did not want to carry for the rest of my life, or have surface in a bigger way. I knew that I wanted to face this head on so that I could heal, not just for myself but for my family.