Mae Renfroe lost her second-eldest son, Clayton, in a quadding accident in April of 2017 at the age of fourteen. Mae and I both hope you will be encouraged by her story.
Most days, most times, I do okay now. In fact, I can honestly say, I'm doing well. I have joy, and hope, and purpose in my life.
But right now, today, on the three-year milestone after we lost you, I'm putting aside the things that I use to keep me busy and sitting in the sadness, Levi.
One year closer to seeing you again. May I use the time I have until then to love well.
There is an old joke that goes, "How do you eat an elephant?"
"I don't know, how do you?"
"One bite at a time."
The not-so-hidden truth in here can be applied to so many things—projects, goals, ginormous meals. But today, I'm going to talk about how I have found this true when tackling emotional hardship.*
*No elephants were harmed in the making of this blog post.
For some people, the Christmas season is their most difficult grieving season of the year.
Not me. With the passing of Noah's birthday on February 26, I have been descending pell-mell down the slope of anniversaries that bring up bittersweet memories of Levi.
Apparently, getting puppies is how I deal.
Two years later, we are still completely humbled when we consider the massive wave of support we received when Levi died. I am convinced that the support of our community through that first difficult year had a good deal to do with the progress we made in our healing. Yes, the work of grief must be done on an individual basis. But knowing that we were never alone had a significant impact on how brave we were in approaching that work.
A day at a time, the log jam is loosening and the ideas are flowing. The sun is coming back, energy is returning, and I am pulling myself blinking from the retreat of hibernation. For my own mental and emotional health, this year needs to be less about driving myself and more about reducing commitments, taking care of myself, and finding my passion again. It needs to be about healing.