Thursday, August 30, 2018


I keep hearing people tell me I'm strong. I went to and looked up the definition of the word strong because that's not how I feel. I don't know if I really fit any of the 25 different definitions. Is it strong to get up every day?  Is it because I'm still working and being a mom? I don't know if that's strong or just what I need to do. If that's the definition of strong then many people I know are strong. There are people fighting worse battles than I am that do more than I do that I would say they are strong.

I have a strong faith.

I have a strong trust in God.

I have a strong belief that everything happens for a reason, according to a plan.

But maybe I am strong in the eyes of others because they see me showered, dressed and out of bed. They see me at work. They see me being a mom. Maybe they don't feel they could be doing those things if they had lost their husband. Maybe they wish they could have the faith I have and believe that it's all going to be okay. It is what it is. I may never understand the reason why, but it doesn't mean I have to stop living or trusting God.

Their eyes that don't see the rest of me. They don't see me cry in the shower when I smell the body wash. They don't see me cry when I hear songs on the radio. They don't see me cry when I sit and watch the sunset. They don't see me cry when it's late at night and I can't sleep. They don't see me cry when I want to tell Steve something and then remember he's gone. They don't see me sit in his truck and eat an entire container of ice cream. Maybe they see the tears while I pray in church. Maybe they see a hint starting when people ask how the boys are. Maybe they read this blog and can sense the grief.

So maybe I am strong by some people's definition, but my heart feels weak some of the time. I sometimes wish I had the strength to be stronger for other people as they grieve too. To offer comfort and advice.

I don't share a lot of this with anyone because I don't want sympathy. I don't want people to be proud of me because I'm strong.

I need to grieve. They need to grieve. And maybe we all just do it a little different.

I have a lot of coping strategies that are helping me get through too. I read, write and keep a journal. I pray and keep going to church. I meditate and do restorative yoga. I speak with a therapist. I take pictures. I get massages. I eat ice cream in front of the TV. I cry and I laugh.

Be strong.
Be brave.
Do well.
Keep going.
Have faith.
Look for miracles.

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