4 weeks ago it was about 9:30pm when Dominic answered a knock on our front door. 4 weeks ago that our lives changed forever. I wrote in my journal today that I know that life goes on but it feels like for me everything is measured by the next hard thing.

Waiting for the death certificate, turning his truck into his lender, getting to the 30 day mark so that we can finalize the rest of his “affairs”…

That night 4 weeks ago, I had fallen asleep on the couch. I had been watching a Netflix series about people handcrafting blown glass. You know where they take these glass rods and then melt them and shape them into works of art. It takes incredible skill to manipulate the glass, shape it into something beautiful. At times in the show you would hear that awful sound….the glass reaching its breaking point and shattering into a thousand pieces onto the floor.

In many ways I feel like that is a picture of our lives now.

Back in November when I spoke at the Never So Broken conference, I shared my “vase” story. Years ago author Angie Smith blogged about losing her daughter Audrey. Her therapist told her that sometimes when people are grieving it is cathartic to break something. She decided to do that and broke this pitcher but felt God calling her to spend time with Him and put the pieces of her pitcher back together again. In 2008 I resonated with that story after our miscarriage. I bought a vase at Walmart and broke it and spent time praying and putting it back together again.

I shared at the conference that the vase represented my journey to the feet of Jesus. In many ways I was a broken individual when I came to know God and by His grace He put me back together again. But there are some pieces in that vase that were shattered and unable to be fixed, once the vase was put back together there were holes in it.

I said that it was in those places that I believed light could shine through. God’s light.

I still believe those things. I do.

But yesterday all I wanted to do was scream and break all the things. If it would have been appropriate to take a baseball bat to everything in my home, I might have done it. I got upset with one of my kids about their e-learning homework and their attitude and just started slamming cupboard doors. And then the sound, the wailing sound, that came from the depths of my spirit….. 

This is so unfair.

I told one friend that I was thankful for grace. That I was able to apologize and ask for forgiveness and tell my kids that their mom is just hurting so bad. And later I reached out to a friend of Isaac’s to see how she was doing and admitted my desire to destroy all the things and she reminded me of the reality of this situation….”breaking things would feel so good, but it won’t bring him back….”

I just want him back so damn much.

I know it is probably too soon. Too soon to see how this awful hurt could transform into something good. It just feels like I will always be like those shattered pieces of glass on the ground. Too broken to be put back together. I know that isn’t true, but right now it feels like that.

I guess I am learning in this process that even if just for a time, it is ok for me to sit in this place. I don’t want to stay here long. I don’t want to allow hopelessness to creep in. But I won’t always be able to be the “strong” one, the “hopeful” one….some days I guess I just need to sit amongst the broken pieces and lament because my heart is shattered and it is just not ok.