Two is Less than Three

I write in my head all day long.  Things I wish I'd said, things I wish I'd done.  Amazing, wonderful sentences that describe beautifully what I am feeling.  They never make it to my computer.  I am in this crazy, frantic, manic mode and there is no time for writing.

I told Gary this week I feel like I am in a maze and every time I think I am almost to an end I turn a corner and there I am again.  That's right, everywhere I go...there I am.

I wish I could describe the feeling; the anxiety, the fear, the loss,  that coexist within my heart.  The space that is empty and hollow.  This gaping hole that I try desperately to fill with everything else, because two is less than three.

I imagine Jesus there in the stable of my heart holding Justin.  I just can't seem to find the comforter in my mind.  He lives no doubt in my heart, in my soul....but there is still two instead of three.

I remember one of my kids saying after they asked Jesus into their heart, they were worried about eating too much and crowding him out.  So literal this asking him into our hearts.  But really He is everywhere and He is in my very being, my soul.  If I could just get Him to fill my mind instead of all these random crazy thoughts, instead of fear and anxiety, instead of the ginormous monster of grief.

Because the maze in my mind always leads back to one place.  The frantic cries of a Mother for her child screaming through my brain.

We all know that feeling when you have lost your child in the store.  The panic, the frantic searching, the stories that quickly rise to the surface in our minds of children abducted and all the unspoken things done to them.  That moment.  That is what I feel sometimes.  That frantic, pulse racing moment of loss is repeated over and over.  Up and down and round and round

I know this feeling.  I have lived with this feeling for ten years.  Ten years off and on of my boy struggling with addiction.  Ten years of driving around looking for him when he didn't come home. Scared to death that he has been in an accident and is stranded in a ditch somewhere.  Picking him up from the Emergency Room or a strangers house to intoxicated to drive.  Waking up in the middle of the night and looking for his car, hoping he was home.  Ten years off and on of praying for the turn around, a roller coaster of rejoicing and devastation.

He loved God and when he was up, this boy was up.  So fun, so loving, sharing his faith with everyone.  Serving and loving others and loving me well.  He, the most affectionate of my boys.  He, the boy turned man that even at twenty something would still call me Mommy.  But addiction is horrifying, grabbing someone you love and pulling them back down the rabbit hole while you watch from the sidelines unable to do anything but pray.

And so Christmas is hard.  It is tragic and hopeful.  It is glaringly empty and yet full of promise. Because a baby king was born I will see my Justin again.  I will hear him laugh and call me Mommy, but in the meantime Christmas reminds me that two is less than three and the roller coaster keeps rolling on.

I go to buy chap stick for stockings and it comes in packs of three.  I don't have three anymore.  I go to buy pajama pants and pull three pair....The loss overwhelms me.  I thought I would be better.  I am disappointed in myself.  I want to be stronger and instead I am weaker.  I cry out to the healer but the doses only seem to come in small increments and then the disease of grief rises up all over again. Like a fever it takes me over, my whole body feels the effects.  My body hurts almost as much as my heart.  Until it doesn't. Until just like that I am able.  I am stronger, even if just for a moment.

Wonderful people.  I love you people.  You hug me, you love me, you listen patiently.  You hug tighter than normal and when I choke up and pull away you say it's okay.  Yes, you probably are one of these people.  You write encouraging notes, send sweet texts, light candles, you speak love with words and actions and you make it bearable.  I try to be alone but I can't bear it and so you fill my life with your presence.  You shop with me, sit with me and when I am crazy, frantic busy....you get it.  You know my routine, my addiction.  You listen, you are not judgy, you are my people, my tribe.

You make me laugh, you remind me I am not tripping I am trudging.  You are the sign that says "this way" and you move me towards the light.  You send me songs and teachings and you think I don't notice....but I do.  Sometimes I just can't talk about it, how much it helped.  There is a file on my computer for your love letters.  I love you people! 

Lost in the maze I hear your voices shouting directions as I limp along.  I hear the Holy Spirit whispering, I know this sadness.  I too was separated from someone I love.  So, I limp along. Roaming the barren land of this world looking for the entrance to the promise land.  I suppose I will end up back in this place from time to time for the rest of my life.  Someone will look like Justin and take my breath away.  I will see two instead of three, the hole will swallow me for a moment.  I will forget he is gone and feel that sudden panic of loss....that Mother's fear and then I will realize I don't need to search for him, he is already found.

Two is less than three its true, but this world always holds less....Heaven is full of all the rest...there is so much more to come.  So today I choose to celebrate the two and all the other special, wonderful people in my life.  My tribe, my close and my far, my near and dears, and my sisters from another misters, my fellow strugglers and my supporters and most of all the lover of my soul who somehow will piece all this brokeness back together one day.

P.S.   Sorry if I didn't get you a gift, shopping was just to hard.