Angry

I think I'm angry. But I'm not sure at whom and for what. I know some of it is directed at myself.

My perennial deficiency at organization and event planning makes me angry. I was left trying to figure out at the last minute how to honor my babies on their 3rd birthday. I ended up doing nothing because I was overwhelmed and frustrated. As their mother that tears me up with guilt.

The loneliness of all this still makes me angry. How does one know how to walk this out when no one you know has gone through it? What if the ones who have gone through it are at different stages of their grief and you still can't relate?

Having to explain my story makes me angry. I know this one's irrational. But it's still awkward. And that's my own hangup and God will work with me on it when He thinks I'm ready.

Seeing other people get to raise their twins makes me angry. This one's even more irrational. And selfish. I lift this ugly one up to God whenever it surfaces. But let's face it, I've always liked being the center of attention, and I really liked being a mom of twins. Yes, I'm still a mom of twins, but now who's going to know?

Not being able to see Corrie and his boy together makes me angry. They would have been so cute... I'll bet Nicholas would have gotten some kind of cool battery-powered Jeep or something like that this birthday. Not to mention the loads of Tonka trucks and dinky cars that are noticeably absent at our house. Corrie is a wonderful father of girls, but Nicholas' absence is a hole that will never be filled.

I could go on and on but it only makes me feel worse. Sometimes I get tired at the amount of things I need to accept, to let go, to lift up to God for healing. But He never does, and for that I am grateful. The anger is a reminder that I am bearing a burden again that I was never meant to carry on my own. His grace really is sufficient and is an ever-present resource to draw on when I'm in over my head. And as a grieving mother, I will always be in over my head.