“Jesus Wept.”
The words seemed to jump off the page and slap me in the face. “Jesus wept.” I read them again and again, my mind and my heart making a connection that had been staring me in the face for nearly my entire life. I have known this verse…
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“Heather, now I completely understand why you have had seasons of struggling being at church. What I am experiencing is different to you but I totally get it now. I know I sympathized with you, but now I completely understand.”
“Kinda suffocating, right?”
“Yes… It is strange how grief makes it…
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“You know, I just heard a sad story about a boy who was in a tragic accident. He was severely injured and after two weeks of being in the hospital he passed away. I can’t imagine what his parents are going through…At least you guys still have Finley.”
My mouth…
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“Babe! The van is making a weird noise! Pull over!” I bumped Matt’s arm to get his attention. He had his headphones in, listening to Audible as we drove home from Atlanta.
“Oh man,” he said, putting on the brakes and heading to the highway shoulder.
“It sounds like the front…
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“Hi, welcome. I’m Kendayl. This must be Finley.” Kendayl knelt down to get eye level with Finley.
“Hi, Finley. I’m so glad you could come today.” Finley smiled and gave Ms. Kendayl a high-five. I was hooked. This sweet preschool teacher had sold me within 30 seconds of meeting her….
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“Finley, let’s brush your teeth at the sink like a big girl!” I scooped Finley up and wrapped her long legs around my torso.
“YEAH!” She exclaimed excitedly.
“I’m coming too.” Said Matt, following close behind me on the stairs.
We stood her at the sink and helped her hold on with…
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“Mama, what are you doing?!” My big three stood there, mouths open, shocked by the catastrophic state of the front yard and of their mother. I was covered with a light film of dirt with mud smears over my arms and legs.
“I am getting rid of this gigantic bush!”…
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“What am I doing?” I say to myself daily.
“I don’t know, Mama.” My kids often respond.
I pause, racking my brain why I just came into the kitchen, knowing there was something I had purposed to do…but it is gone. Frustration and anxiety rise as I go back to retrace…
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Abandoned. Rejected. Seen better days. Counted as trash. Sitting in a Chicago alley, where disowned furniture finds its way to the land fill, was a forest green, diamond patterned, wing back chair. Gorgeous and trendy in the early 90s, now dumpster bound.
I quickly put on the brakes and turned down…
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“Mama, can I do anything to help?”
“Thank you…Just get in the van.” I said through clenched teeth as I wrestled a tantrum throwing Finley into her car seat.
It was Sunday. I had made it through another church service and I had successfully retreated to our 18 year old mini…
Heather Sweetman
Chicago, IL
Hi lovely people! My name is Heather and I am so glad you are here. I am writing to you in the middle of my story, from the place where I don't know how it will all turn out, when the story is incomplete, when days are marked by uncertainty, dashed dreams, an unsure future and gripping on to Jesus and loosing my grip and finding he grips me back. Come along with me.