“You’re not really helping me right now.” My sister’s voice came across the phone.
She was right, and it was because there was nothing I could do. I knew she didn’t need a speech in faith, I knew I didn’t need to hear how we would make it. I knew pretty much any words they would come stumbling out my face in efforts to make her feel better, well, just couldn’t and wouldn’t make her feel better.
“I’m sorry.” I said “I don’t know what I can tell you that will help.”
“Well, you just seem all fine with everything.” She replied
“I’m just trying to stay focused for my workshop I have to put on tonight.” I explained.
After we hung up myself had a few word with me. “Well, she thinks your fine. Do you tell her you’re not. Do you tell her it is just your automatic big sister response you have refined for years now. Your response to put on a front and say everything is fine so you can protect her and just be there for her. Remember when you were kids and you wouldn’t cry when you got your immunizations so she would see it would be fine. Remember when you thought you heard someone in the house when you were home alone, and when she looked at you in fear you said, no worries it’s fine and made up some possible explanation hoping you were right. Remember when she called to tell that mom and dad weren’t ok, that something was wrong and you said, it’s fine Jess, married people go through stuff, only it wasn’t fine then and it’s not fine now.
Do you tell her. Do you tell her you are NOT fine. Do you tell her your heart aches for her. Do you tell her you don’t see an end in sight and there are a million fears you imagine. Do you tell her you are tired. Do you tell her you just hope you can be strong enough for her, but you’re not even really sure about that. Do you tell her that this whole situation is sucks, and you are trying to hold it together so you can get through your day, to present your workshop, and then come home and bury yourself in TV, hoping sleep will come rescue you from the heart wrenching thoughts that keep running through your mind.
Nope, you don’t. You go upstairs cry your eyes out, wipe your tears, fix your make up, and stick your chin up so when she calls you again you are fine. This way You can just be there for her, because that is all you can do.
I know we will get through this, although I honestly don’t know the toll it will take. I know we will write more positive stuff in the days to come as we work through and find our groove. But today, I am spent. I have no inspirational blog of faith. I have no comforting words for my sister and Jake. I am spent. So tonight I retreat, not to my faith, not to muster up strength or wisdom. I retreat to my bed where I will let my mind go numb on whatever show I choose. I will beg sleep to stay with me through the night. And then tomorrow, first I will breathe, then I will get up, then I will put one foot in front of the other, and then I will grab my mustard seed faith, and then I will get ready for battle…again.