Do You Have Any Idea Who I Am?

Last fall I was running errands in town and needed to drop something off at church.  As I walked up the sidewalk to the door, a car pulled up behind me and the older man driving started yelling at me.  I turned around to see who he was yelling at, and was shocked his tyrant was directed towards me.  He was mad at me for not stopping long enough at the stop sign up the road.  (I know I did stop for my 1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi).  I tried to tell him that I did stop, but he was so angry there was no reasoning with this man.  As I went to turn away and proceed with my day, (and yes he was still yelling), out of my mouth came these words:  "Do you have any idea who I am?"  I did not say this because I'm some sort of Diva.  I said it because I really wanted to know if he knew me.  Did this man who decided to follow me into my church parking lot know me?  I'm not talking about my name, or who my family is.  I'm talking about me.

I have learned at a pretty young age some very important information about life.  Don't judge.  Be patient.  Don't sweat the small stuff.  It's not easy, but I work at it every day. 

When I was told that my husband was not going to live after his accident and that I would have to make some of the biggest decisions of my life soon, my life changed.  I could never be the same person again. 

When it's February and I see someone's  Christmas lights still on at night.  That person's lawn hasn't been mowed for a while.  She's home all day and her house is a mess.  The lady at the grocery store seems like she's on another planet!  That guy can't find his keys again!

These are just a few things I know I was guilty of, but luckily my neighbors and friends understood.  They were more concerned about me than my lights and lawn.  I would even get phone calls reminding me to shut my garage door at night because they cared.  What about in public though, when most people didn't know why I walked through a store like a zombie, or I'd silently cry at restaurants with my friends.  I couldn't concentrate on little things like paying a bill!  Did people judge me?

I walk through life with a little more compassion than I did before my husband was killed.  I try to remember that I really don't know the road the person in line ahead of me is traveling.  What crosses are they bearing? 

When I think back to that fall day when I was just trying to accomplish a few things on my list, I am grateful that it wasn't the day that I walked the same sidewalk into those same doors just months before to plan my husbands funeral.  That man had no idea who I was and I didn't know who he was.  I do know that I went on with my day with a little more compassion towards the people I met along my way.   

Change

Not everybody loves change.  I have to admit that I sometimes and dragged kicking and screaming through change only to learn that it's usually not so bad.  This year my family & I were slammed by an unimaginable change.  Yes, I did my fair share of kicking, screaming, crying, and pouting.  I also was able to laugh a little and learn a lot.  Was it so bad?  Yes, it was.  I wish every day I could go back to January 22, 2011 and do it differently-somehow change the events of the day.  If only I didn't want to go riding so bad.  If only the weather hadn't gotten so cold so we would have kept of family trip plans of riding out of town.  If only we had left sooner or later...I've thought of them all and it won't change what actually happened. 

I am not able to change the past, but I have changed.  I instantly became a 34 year old widowed mother of two young daughters.  That change rocked everything I knew about life.  I could no longer go on living like I did before my husband died.  I'm not going to lie-I did try it.  I went back to work after two weeks.  I woke up at the same time every day.  Woke my children up and got them ready for school and took them to daycare as I had done every day before the accident.  Drove the same road and parked in the same spot in the parking lot at work as I always had before.  I wanted everything to be the same.  I began to notice little by little that things that worked for me before were not working for me now.  My life was starting to crumble away bit by bit.  I wasn't eating, sleeping, or living.  I was coasting as if on autopilot.  Thank God people brought food and supplies to the house because my children needed food and I needed help.  I was trying to do what took two adults did everyday by myself.  I almost became "superhuman".  I was so busy and accomplishing so much.  Things, I thought, were going well.  I had been reading so many books on grieving because I wanted to make sure I was doing it right.  I wanted to know the steps and complete them.  Check them off on a list.  (I love lists!) 

Then it happened.  I had time to think one day, then my youngest came home from school and was burning up with a fever.  I was trapped in my house and alone with my thoughts.  Monday morning came around and I had to keep my baby home from school because she needed another day.  I was a mess.  A good friend insisted on coming over and little by little I started to change.  I kept telling her everything I had to do and she kept asking me, "why?".  I of course was kicking and screaming, but I was changing ever so slightly. 

I have always been pretty sure of the path I was following.  I thought I was in control.  I had a plan.

Change.  It's crazy how quick it can happen, but at the same time be incredible slow.  How out of devastating change, a miraculous change can take place planting the seeds for more change. 

I may still kick, scream, and cry when change comes my way, but I will always look around the corner for the small miracles that may come with it.