“Rachel, leave the boxes for the guys to get. They’re really heavy!” My dad glanced at me with a concerned look.
I bet they’re not that heavy! I thought to myself.
I watched as my dad walked away with “the guys” carrying some boxes.
Hmm, I pondered, looking for smaller items. But those boxes…Couldn’t be too heavy! And really just because I’m not one of the guys!
I marched my seven-year old legs over to the forbidden boxes on the end of the trailer. I rested my hand on the top box and glanced quickly inside the garage. No one. Seconds passed. I traced my finger along the edge of the box…and took a few steps closer. One more glance. No one. I’ll show them!
I quickly lowered my hands around the box and bent my knees as my dad always did. I pulled on the box. This is heavy! My little fingers slipped off the box. I heard my dad yell,”Rachel, No!” as my head crashed into the driveway pavement.
I’ll never forget starting 2nd grade with a huge goose egg on my head.
I can do all things…on my own.. has been my motto most of my life….
For a long time after my mom passed away, I thought I could do all things. God would never give me a box too heavy to carry. Or so I thought.
And once again, I thought with a little moxy, I could defeat grief. And so I tried for a long time, to do it on my own. If I stayed positive and strong, I would just get over it.
I filled my life with adventures and visits to see my friends. I occupied my life with busy. Because well, that’s what I do when I’m trying to avoid things.
But grief is a heavy box….And it can only be carried for a short while.
It needs to be opened. It needs to be heard, it needs to be felt.
It’s anger, shock, regret, denial.
It’s acceptance. It’s love. It’s wisdom. It’s joy.
But it’s a part of me now.
God has sent people in my life that have helped me to unbox my grief. Listening to their stories of times they’ve struggled has given me hope and allowed me to share mine as well.
At times, it’s been hard to admit to myself that it’s ok to talk about it. Even to talk to God about it.
Anger was the emotion I most definitely didn’t want to embrace so I left my anger in the box for a long time and I dragged the box with me…
My anger festered in the box. Until it came bursting forth.
I remember the night. My dad was on the phone. I knew the verdict. Knew what he was gonna say when he hung up the phone.
“Girls, Patches isn’t doing good…”
And all the anger came spilling out…the anger that I was not awake when mom died. Anger that I had somehow let her down. Anger that I didn’t appreciate her the way I should have. Anger that she wasn’t with us now in Washington, D.C. Anger that she missed out on Sarah’s college graduation a few days before….and now my sweet cat Patches was dying!
“We should be there! We should have taken her to the vet!” I yelled at my dad. “Why didn’t we??”
“Rachel, we didn’t know…” my sister started.
“Of course, we knew.” I shot back.
Patches passed away that night. Back home, our friends stayed till she passed. They were there…my family was there. God was with us too.
I think my independent spirit will always be apart of me. It’s not always a bad thing…but I pray as I come to the next heavy box in my life, I don’t try to carry it alone. I hope I set it down, unbox it and give God those things that are too heavy for me…
Maybe you’re like me. You struggle with pride too. For years, you and I have heard statements like, God will never give us more than we can handle.
But my friend, that’s not true, and if we try to carry all those things, we will grow so tired. Let’s encourage each other. Let’s share our struggles. Let’s admit when we we need help. Let’s run our race well, but not alone. We have a community of believers running with us! And our Heavenly Father lives within us!
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