God is working in the impossible.

We have always known that God can do the impossible. This time, I felt like God chose not to do "the impossible." In my mind, healing Chad on this earth was the "impossible." It was just revealed to me like a bop on the head this morning--in the shower (isn't that where all revelations take place?)--that we have always known that God could heal Chad as easy as just saying the word. What's impossible is walking through this life without him, without my partner by my side. My complement. God is using this experience to show me how He can be my everything in this particular storm.

I have had so many loving friends and family tell me how "strong" I am. Let me give you the real deal here; I don't want to lead you on in any way. I think it's God's grace that has allowed me to be numb to this whole experience for now. I was actively there at Chad's death. I felt that whole experience and I am glad for that. It was a sacred time that you can only understand if you've been there. However, after that, it seems like a switch turned on and it's hard to feel anything. A layer of saran wrap (Am I allowed to use that name in my blog? Sorry, plastic wrap.) stands between me and my reality. Sometimes the wrap tears a little and the reality of my life slips through, stabbing me in the chest and taking my breath away. That tends to happen at night, between 12 and 2. But, I can tolerate my days. I can distract myself with whatever needs to be done or a fun outing. It's like my mind tells me that Chad is away and that it's okay.

There are times that I try to realize what's going on, and my mind understands it, but it doesn't go any deeper than that. I thought this coping mechanism might be unhealthy, so--in true Lauren fashion--I started to google it. It seems to be totally normal and okay for now, even protective. Many of my friends who think I'm strong are thinking about how they might respond if they were me. There were many times when Chad was alive that I pictured how I would respond if the worst happened. When I thought about what it would be like, I would cry and feel the pain of that, but it's so different now than what I thought it would be. 

God's grace has allowed me to see, for a very short time, Chad suffering and realize that His plan is better than what this world could do for him. It was jarring how fast this last part of his decline went. We thought we would have anywhere from three months to a year from when Duke said there was nothing else they could do. I even entertained the idea that he would be dismissed from hospice for being on too long, but he was only here for about 5 weeks. I am thankful that he didn't have to endure any longer the life he was living in the last weeks. God's grace took Chad peacefully into heaven where he would be completely healed in a way this world couldn't offer. 

I know God is walking beside me and tenderly caring for me in all of this. While I am straining to feel my reality and get through it, He is reminding me to take it a day at a time, as it comes. It's okay to feel what I am feeling and not feel what I am not feeling. I can't handle all of it right now and push through it quickly, as I'm tempted to try to do. I want to just get this mourning thing done and find a new normal, but I don't think that's how this works. 

I am thankful for God's understanding guidance and grace. His quiet way of reminding me that He is here in the dark nights, between 12 and 2, when I realize that the one I chose is never coming home. He is going to be here when everyone else goes home and gets back to their lives and the plastic wrap finally falls off. He is here for me and for my boys through whatever comes our way. And He is taking perfect care of Chad in his eternal home.