I think I’ve misplaced something of importance. The original. And there are no copies. I’ve torn the house upside down over and over again. I’ve gone back to the only place I ever put “it” and it isn’t there. I’ve accused everyone of taking it or moving it knowing good and well they didn’t, but I’m angry it’s gone. I’m angry at myself for misplacing it. For not being more responsible. For not being more careful. How could I have been so careless? I sit down in exasperation and retrace my steps for the millionth time and I KNOW I put it where it belongs but it isn’t there. I’ve walked away and found something else to do to get my mind off it only to rinse and repeat. It still isn’t there and I am stressing out!
It’s not the end of the world, I tell myself. I’ll figure something out. I always do. But where did I put it?!
It’s not my keys that have gone missing, or important documents. It isn’t my driver's license, passport or wallet. It isn’t a prescription or my last pair of contacts.
Fact is, I didn’t lose anything. I didn’t misplace it. I wasn’t careless or irresponsible.
That was a glimpse into the way grief manifested itself today. That is how I felt. Crazy, right?! I’m bee bopping through life with genuine joy in my heart, surrounded by love and support, amazing kiddos and grand biscuit, and literally the best tribe on the planet, and then WHAMO!
Oh. Hello grief. It’s you again. I see you’ve changed tactics. It didn’t work last time and it won’t work this time. I have to be real with you though, you almost had me! Very clever! It took me a minute (or 4 hours) to catch on, but I did. So, let’s do this again, just so we’re clear. You. Lose. You do not define me or dictate my actions. You do not have a voice loud enough to make me believe your lies. You see, I know that grieving is normal, and I became quite acquainted with it in 2019. But my grief - the grief that is beautiful and intimate and a reflection of how much I love my son - is covered in peace and prayer.
And let me remind you of that prayer. Yes, THAT prayer. The one that was said in the wee hours of the morning after my baby boy was rescued. The one where I asked my Father to protect my grief from being hijacked by the enemy to be used against me. The one He led me to pray because He knew that my love for Hagen was so great, that if not protected, my grief would be used to consume me.
You and I both know that prayer was heard. Just as well as we know this isn’t the sacred grief that I carry for my son. You are a counterfeit! You are the enemy masquerading as grief! And you have no authority here. So. Take it on back to hell where it belongs. I know my Truth, and you have no place in it.
You lose! Now I’m going to pick up my grandson and laugh and wallow around with him. And I’m going to love every single minute of it.
After I find my keys.