Where I’ve been

I am going to do something I decided I wasn’t going to do here on this blog and say, “Wow. It’s been awhile since I’ve writen anything! Sorry about that!” Normally when I go long stretches without writing, it is because I’m struggling.

I have different kinds of struggles. There are those waves of grief that take me off guard, that leave me feeling like I can’t breathe, that bring tears that seem to have no end. Sometimes those actually motivate me to write, however. To process and reflect and write.

But recently, I’ve felt a little more self-conscious about anything I write. What else is there to say?

Guess what? It really sucks to lose a child.

Guess what? It still really sucks to lose a child.

Guess what? I really don’t like this any more now than I did almost two years ago.

But since September, it’s been a different sort of struggle. And in a lot of ways, it is harder. I don’t think about it that much. I don’t really cry, at least not very often. My anxiety level is low; my insomnia is worse; my ability to do things is greater but my will to do them is almost nonexistant. I just feel so . . . apathetic.

And I hate that.

But for the last two weeks, I’ve just been busy. Getting ready for the Christmas season and filling out my stock for the last craft shows of the year. Getting the puppies ready to go home and answering countless questions about the litter, taking hundreds of pictures and hours of video to help people make decisions on puppies from Utah and Minnesota, Missouri and Kansas. A whirlwind trip to Denver to deliver a puppy who has started his early training to become an alpine rescue dog. Clearing brush and fallen trees in exchange for the wood to heat our home.

And tumbling into bed each night, exhausted and hoping this is preparing me to tackle what I have planned for next summer. When my dream garden is planted and our first calf means daily milking.

And I have so much to write about. But each day I think I’ll get to it tomorrow. And watch a show instead because I’m too tired to put my thoughts into words.

About Dana

Dana homeschools her children on five acres in the country with her husband John.
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8 Responses to Where I’ve been

  1. Catrina says:

    I have never commented. We don’t know each other at all or have mutual online friends. I have no idea how I found your blog, but I did. I found it a few days after the accident and I realized today that for 2 years I have prayed for you and your kids. I don’t know their names, all I remember is that you have cute little nicknames for all of them. You are brought to mind often and my prayers are just little snippets to God, “be with them today”, “oh God let them feel your presence”, “let them know that they never, ever walk alone.” Just stuff like that. In the mornings, before bed, in the middle of the night, when I am driving, when I hear of other peoples loses, YOU come to mind. YOU are in my thoughts, and for some strange reason that God only knows, I have never forgotten you. I just wanted you to know. I think you should know that random strangers have been called to intercede on your behalf, and in the kingdom it really is a small world, and there are those that hopefully will lighten your load, or at least walk silently beside you as you carry your burden.

    • Sarah says:

      Me too. Ditto. Word. for. word….to what Catrina wrote. You and your family enter my mind in uncanny ways frequently and with it is always a prayer of strength and love for you all.

      You can write it a thousand times the same way if you want. We will still be here praying for you. It makes no sense. It sucks. You hate it hate it hate it hate it…. And I always wish that to death, especially that of a child, there was some remedy of comfort for the anguish endured. I don’t understand…. But your ministering…and it is that….has changed my perspective on faith (positively) in ways I can’t put to pen.

    • Dana says:

      Thank you so much, Catrina. I know those prayers have sustained us all these months.

  2. Terri says:

    It was so *interesting* reading your post because I lost my son about the same time your little Tiggy went to heaven. Those could have been my words~ somedays the battle feels so long, and I feel so weary and often forget what I’m fighting for. I often repeat what Paul said in Romans 8:18, “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” Praying for you tonight.

  3. Dana says:

    Thank you for such kind words, Terri. And I’m so sorry about your loss as well. :(

    I repeat that verse to myself as well. :)

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